Are You Asking Me On a Date, Rose Tyler?
by micbb
Summary: Martha takes pity on her staff member, James, who has gained the affections of a very persistent french blonde, and enlists an old friend to save him from his suitor's clutches. "'There's a great chippy just two roads over,' she told him, 'and I am supposed to be taking you to lunch…' 'Are you asking me on a date, Rose Tyler'" RoseX10 AH
1. Chapter 1

**So every time I see these AUs, it's always Rose who had the little job in the coffee shop while the Doctor struts around being his fantastic self, so I decided to turn the tables a bit. The Doctor is the barista who needs Rose Tyler, a woman he's never met, to save him from Reinette, a woman he wished he'd never met.**

"Bonjour, James," a familiar voice purred from behind him as John Smith wiped down a table in TARDIS café.

He sighed before putting a smile on his face and turning to face the woman. "Good morning, Reinette," he said politely. Reinette had been a regular at the coffee shop for the past two months, and made a show of flirting with him regardless of whether he went along with it or not. She'd gotten more persistent over the past few weeks, but John didn't know how to let her off without sounding like a complete prick, so he plastered a fake grin on his face and hoped she'd eventually get bored and move on.

That didn't seem to be the case.

Reinette reached forward and fiddled with his tie, making him particularly uncomfortable. "Will you make my coffee for me, mon chère?" She smiled flirtatiously and batted her eyes at him.

He took a step back from her, only to have her tighten her grip on his tie. _Ah_. How was he supposed to get out of this without driving off one of their best customers? "Sorry, Reinette, I've got to finish cleaning the tables. Donna will make your coffee." He told her, tugging on his ear.

She pouted and titled her head to the side. "But she doesn't make it quite like you do," she whined, stepping forward again until she was very much occupying James's personal space. He shrugged, and she sighed dramatically. "Perhaps after you're finished working, you could come by my place and make me a coffee?" She suggested boldly, pulling his tie out from under his suit jacket and tugging him closer to her, looking at him through her eyelashes.

"James," Martha's voice made him jump, and he turned his head to see his manager poking her head out of the staff room and looking at him with raised eyebrows. He gently put his hands on Reinette's shoulders and pushed her away, earning another flirtatious pout.

"Yes?" He flinched at how his voice squeaked.

Martha's lips pressed together as she fought a laugh. "I just got off the phone with your _girlfriend_ ," she told him. Girlfriend? He didn't have a girlfriend. "She wanted to know when you finished today. She's taking you to lunch. You don't mind that I told her, do you?" Her eyes flicked over to Reinette, who, while having given him some space, was still hanging on to his tie.

 _Oh._ This was Martha saving him from his too-persistent female suitor. Gratefulness bubbled in his throat. "Of course. Thanks, Martha." He said with a smile. She grinned back and ducked back into the staff room, closing the door gently behind her.

He turned his attention back to Reinette, who was now looking rather put out and _still_ pouting at him. For Pete's sake, was she five years old? "You never told me you had a girlfriend," she told him pitifully, her lower lip sticking out slightly.

He blinked. "Didn't I? I must have."

She released his tie, but continued to follow him like a lost puppy as he moved to clean the tables. "How long have you had this girlfriend?" She asked him.

"Three months," he answered, feeling distinctly uneasy.

"Three months and you hadn't told me?" She asked in surprise, and he hoped she wasn't seeing through his rather transparent lie.

"We've only just worked out the details," he continued to lie, knowing he was digging himself into a rut he probably wouldn't be able to get out of.

"I see," Reinette replied drily from behind him. "Perhaps I will stay until your break so I can meet the mysterious woman." With that, she marched away from him, heaving over to order her coffee.

He let out a breath of relief, glad to have her out of his hair, and finished wiping down the tables before quickly sliding into the staff room, where Martha was sitting at their shared computer desk, doing some paper work. "Girlfriend?" He asked after firmly closing the door behind him.

Martha looked up from her work and smirked at him, taking in his dishevelled appearance. He quickly went to work fixing his tie. "Well, hello, lover-boy." She teased, laughing when he glared at her. "Relax, James. It got her off your back, didn't it?"

"Yes," he huffed, "but now she wants to hang around and meet the girlfriend." He told her with another glare, shaking his head when Martha laughed again.

"God, she's determined, isn't she?" His manager chuckled. "But I thought she might, so I rang up a friend of mine. She'll be here at the end of your shift."

He grimaced. "Did you tell her she might have to deal with Reinette?"

She grinned at him. "Yep."

His eyebrows shot up. "Who'd be willing to deal with _that_?" He demanded.

Martha laughed again, and he let out an annoyed sighed. "Count yourself lucky she owes me a big favour."

"Must be quite the favour," he remarked. "What's her name?"

"Rose."

* * *

 _Two hours later_

"Hi," a light voice made Donna look up from where she was placing napkins into take-out bags, and she looked up to see a young blonde standing unsurely at the register.

"Morning," Donna greeted with a smile that made her cheeks ache. She was tired of smiling. "What can I get for you?"

"I'm – um – actually looking for someone? James." The blonde replied, a slightly unsure look in her eyes. Donna took her in carefully, wondering if James had ever mentioned having a sister or a girlfriend. She was dressed in an expensive looking black pea coat which was cinched tightly around a small waist, and a light-looking pink scarf was tied peeking out from the collar of the coat. The clothes looked far too expensive for her to be related to James, who seemed to always where a tight suit, whether in pinstriped brown or dark blue. Donna glanced over the woman's shoulder to see Reinette staring at her intently.

"Hm," Donna huffed, putting down the napkin she'd been about to place in a take-away bag. "Just a minute." She stepped away from the cash and went to the staffroom.

James and Martha were both bent over a piece of paper, discussing something quietly, and they looked up when she stepped in. "What's up, Donna?" Martha asked, frowning at the woman who was supposed to be working the shop.

"There's a girl here asking for James," Donna replied, seeing how James and Martha exchanged a look.

"Blonde girl?" Martha checked.

"Yeah," Donna nodded. "Dunno what she sees in you," she sniffed, looking James over, "you're just a skinny boy in a suit."

Martha laughed. "That's Rose. Good luck, James," she nudged him with her shoulder. He straightened up and grabbed his coat, a long brown trench coat, checking his pockets to make sure he had his wallet and keys before leaving the staffroom with a quick wave to Martha, who waved back, a smirk on her lips. As soon as he stepped into the sitting area of the coffee shop, he saw Reinette's ornately pinned hair as the woman spoke to another girl, a blonde in a black coat holding a brown paper bag.

As he stepped closer, he could hear Reinette's voice, "– long have you two been together?" She was asking, a barely-hidden sneer in her tone.

The blonde's eyes flicked to him briefly and he mouthed _three months_ , hoping she would be able to read his lips. The corners of her lips quirked into a small smile and she looked back at Reinette, a smile on her face. "Three months," she replied easily.

"He hasn't said anything about you," Reinette told her bluntly, making James flinch. There was no way he'd be able to explain everything in the same way he'd dealt with the last question.

But the blonde – Rose – obviously didn't need his help. She shrugged. "We only really made it official a couple weeks ago," she replied airily.

"Rose," James jumped in before the conversation could go any further, stepping around Reinette and smiling somewhat unsurely at his blonde not-quite girlfriend, knowing Reinette was watching the two of them intently.

Rose looked up at him a grinned, a knowing glint in her warm hazel eyes. She placed her gloved hand lightly on his shoulder and used it as support as she rose onto her tiptoes and kissed James lightly on the cheek. "Hi, James," she greeted him, her tongue poking out from under her canine as she smiled at him. "I hope you don't mind I called Martha."

"Of course not," he replied, his skin tingling where her lips had touched it. "I'm always happy to see you," he delighted when her smile widened, and he reached and took her other hand in his, the leather of her gloves obviously well broken in as he easily intertwined their fingers. He looked up and smiled politely at Reinette. "Have a good day, Reinette," he said with a quick wave before tugging on Rose's hand and leading her out of the shop.

As soon as they were out of the coffee shop he let out a relieved huff of air, and Rose looked up at him, wide smile on her lips and her eyes shining with mirth. "Thank you for that," he said vehemently.

"No problem," she replied. He began to pull his hand from hers, but she tightened her grip, and he looked at her in question. "We're still in view from the shop," she explained, and he turned back to see that they were, in fact, and that Reinette's eyes had followed them out.

He ran his hand through his hair and squeezed her hand in thanks, and she smiled up at him. Now that he didn't really have to act like he knew her already, he took finally took her in. Her hair had obviously been dyed, seeing as it didn't match her eyebrows, but he almost couldn't tell, suggesting it had been done at a high-end salon. She was wearing minimal makeup – just mascara, as far as he could see, a light pink scarf around her neck that seemed to be more for fashion than for warmth, and a black pea coat. She was quite pretty with her warm eyes and easy smile. "Sorry about this, Rose," he said sheepishly, "I hope Martha didn't interrupt anything important."

She smiled and shook her head. "Nothing important, nope," she teased. "I make my own hours, so it's fine."

"That sounds nice," he said wistfully, "what do you do?"

"I work for a private security company," she said. "Not very exciting, I assure you." He grinned down at her, and she winked, making him laugh.

"Not far, I hope?" He continued.

She shook her head again. "Not at all. I even left my car over there. I'll walk back later."

"Oh." He said simply, and they walked in silence for a few minutes before he spoke up again. "So what did you do to Martha to get stuck owing her a favour?"

She burst out laughing, eventually making him stop while she clutched her stomach. When it finally let up, she was wiping tears from her eyes. "She didn't tell you?" She said between chuckles.

"No," he answered, bewildered, "now I'm afraid of what I'm going to hear."

She pressed her lips together. "I shouldn't tell you anyway," she said.

"Oh, come on!" He whined, and she kept her lips tightly pressed together, her face contorting as she struggled not to laugh again. "Really?" He pressed, and she shook her head, making him groan dramatically.

"All that matters is that it was it big enough for her to call me up on a Saturday morning and tell me that I needed to pick up a bloke at the shop who couldn't get a certain woman to leave him alone," She teased, earning a sheepish smile from him.

"Reinette was holding my tie when Martha called you, did she tell you that?" He said amicably.

Rose gasped. "What? No way. How do you mean?"

He frowned as he thought of how to explain it, and his eyes fell on her scarf. His feet stopped, and, as their hands were still connect, Rose was brought to a sudden stop as well, making her stubble. He reached forward and gently untucked her scarf from under her jacket and, when it was completely free, he pulled it until his face was only a few inches from hers. Her eyes widened and he thought he heard her breath hitch in her throat, and when she met his gaze he saw that her pupils had dilated and her cheeks were tinging pink. Her eyes flitted down to his lips for a moment, and her teeth unconsciously sunk into her own bottom lip, making his heart speed up at the sight. His head tilted downwards without his permission, and her eyes widened further. She stepped away from him, only a step, but it was enough to shock him back into the present.

Rose coughed slightly. "I can – um – I can see why that would make someone uncomfortable," the words tumbled from her mouth without any grace or forethought.

He was happy that she still hadn't let go of his hand, and he wondered idly if she was even aware that she was. Their hands hand been swinging idly between them as they'd walked. "Yeah," he muttered, more to himself than to her. It hadn't escaped his own notice that where with Reinette barely two inches away from him, all he'd been able to think about was how to extricate himself from the situation, where with Rose he'd felt like he'd be content to stay in her space as long as she would allow him.

They walked in silence as minutes continued to tick by, each lost in their own thoughts, and he jumped when Rose broke the silence.

"Do you like chips?"

He looked down at her face to see her looking up intently at him. "What?" He said dumbly.

Her lips pulled into a smile. "Chips, James. Do you like chips?"

"Of course I like chips," he replied with a smirk, "everybody likes chips, Rose."

"There's a great chippy just two roads over," she told him, "and I am supposed to be taking you to lunch…"

His face broke into an cheeky grin. "Are you asking me on a date, Rose – " he frowned and looked at her, and she raised her eyebrows at him, sensing that the phrase wasn't finished. "I just realize I don't even know your last name."

She smiled again. "It's Tyler."

"Rose Tyler," he tested the name. It rolled off his tongue easily and he found he quite liked how it sounded. "That's a brilliant name. Rose Tyler." Her cheeks began to redden again, and he decided he quite liked that, too. "Are you asking me on a date, Rose Tyler?"

She quirked an eyebrow at him and looked him over. "Is chips a date?" she inquired, her tone serious but her eyes sparkling mischievously.

He mulled it over for far longer than he honestly needed to. "I think," he began dramatically, as he met her eyes, which, though warm with amusement, also held the slightest bit of uncertainty, "I think in this case, chips could easily be construed as a date."

She met his eyes for a few more seconds before shaking her head, a slightly annoyed smile on her face. "You avoided the question, James," she sighed, as dramatic as he had been. She slipped her hand out of his and into her jacket pocket. At his dejected expression, Rose chuckled. "She can't see us anymore." She told him playfully, butting his upper arm with her shoulder.

He shot her a pouting look that he knew was childish, but he didn't mind because she took one look at him and laughed at his audacity, which then made him grin goofily again. "I think, Rose Tyler," he didn't miss the slight shiver that passed through her when he said her name, and knowing that response made his pulse quicken again, "that going out for chips _is_ a date, _and_ ," he reached into the pocket she'd just tucked her own hand into and wound their fingers together again before pulling both their hands out, "that I will hold your hand while we walk to our date." He was shocked at his own audacity, but she didn't pull away, so he kept his grip on her hand and let their joined hands hang between them.

She looked down at their intertwined fingers for several moments before looking at up at his face and meeting his gaze, seeing the barely contained hope on his features. "Then, I suppose, James…" she looked intently at him, waiting for him to fill the gap.

He grinned. "McCrimmon."

She nodded. "Then, I suppose, James McCrimmon, that I am asking you on a date."

* * *

"Do you really need that much vinegar?" James asked, wrinkling his nose in displeasure as he watched Rose pour an obscene amount of vinegar onto her basket of chips.

Rose finished pouring then placed the bottle back onto the table, it's supply severely depleted now that Rose Tyler had gotten a hold of it. "Old habits, I suppose. That's how my mum used to eat them, so that's how she'd give them to me. Now can't eat them without it." She popped a chip into her mouth and smiled at she chewed. He shook his head and ate one of his own chips, which had not been doused in vinegar.

"Ever think about travelling?" He asked once he'd swallowed his chip, looking at her intently.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, confused at the rapid change in topics. "What?"

"Travelling," he pressed, smiling at the lost look. "I've always wanted to travel, but I've had the time."

Rose absent-mindedly wrapped her lips around the tip of her thumb, sucking off any of the remaining vinegar from her skin and not noticing how James's breath hitched when he saw. "I've done quite a bit of travelling, actually." She told him with a smile.

"Really?" he leaned forward in his seat and regarded her with delight. "Where?"

She popped another chip into her mouth before speaking, her eyebrows pulling into a thoughtful frown as she struggled to recall everywhere she'd been. "Cardiff, obviously. Also sort of in the high lands of Scotland, visiting this beautiful old estate. Um, also France, Utah, Florida, New York, Turkmenistan…" her eyes lifted to the ceiling as she continued to list her travels, and she missed how James's eyebrows rose as the list seemed to go on and on. "I also have a friend in Canada that I see every few years, his name's Tim. He's a nice bloke. Where else? I think," she frowned, "that's it. I think."

"That's quite the list," James told her truthfully. "Who goes to Turkmenistan? Where even _is_ Turkmenistan?"

Rose met his curious brown gaze, smiling widely. "Turkmenistan in the middle of a circle of more known middle eastern countries. It's surrounded by Iran to the southwest, Afghanistan to the southeast, Uzbekistan to the northeast, and the Caspian Sea at northwest. I was visiting the Darvaza Gas Crater."

"Darvaza Gas Crater?" James repeated, intrigued.

"It's also called the Gate to Hell," Rose told him ominously, a teasing twinkle in he eyes. "It's amazing. It's about 225 feet wide and 99 feet deep, and it just _burns_. All the time. About forty years ago some scientists set it on fire when it collapsed to get rid of noxious gases, and it just kept burning." Her eyes were wide and distant, as though she was no longer sitting across from him. "The way it continues to burn all the time really makes you think that if you stepped in there you might come across Satan." A shiver ran through her spine and she let out a huff of air before turning her warm eyes back on him. "Anyway, all that to say I've had the chance to travel a bit."

"A bit," James scoffed good-naturedly. "Is there any place you haven't been that you've always wanted to go?"

She frowned for a moment thinking about his question, and only a few seconds later a thought popped into her head and she looked at James with a wide smile and shining eyes. "Barcelona."

James raised an eyebrow. "You've been to Turkmenistan but not to Barcelona?"

Rose shrugged. "Barcelona doesn't have a pit of fire." She said simply, as though it were the simplest answer and really, he should have thought of that. He grinned before sneakily reaching over and stealing one of her chips. "Hey!" She called, affronted, as he smirked before putting the chip in his mouth. He grimaced as soon as the thing hit his tongue, the sharp tang of the vinegar burning his cheeks.

"Honestly, Rose. The vinegar? You're insane."

She shot him a glare. "If you don't like them, then eat your own!" She pushed his basket of chips closer to him and pulled her own closer to herself. "So where would you like to go?" She continued their previous conversation. "If you could go anywhere, where would you go?"

"Well, now," James drawled, making Rose's lips quirk into a smile. "What do you mean by _anywhere?_ " He asked her.

Rose's eyebrows lifted. "What do _you_ mean by 'anywhere'?" She repeated his question back at him, suddenly feeling like she'd completely lost track of the conversation.

James leaned forward on the table, and she mimicked his move, pushing her half-empty basket of chips out of the way so that she could meet him half way. In their mirrored positions, James's and Rose's faces were no more than four inches apart, and Rose didn't miss how James's eyes flicked briefly down to her lips before meeting her own hazel gaze. "What if anywhere actually did mean _anywhere_ ," James said quietly, barely hidden excitement on the features Rose found herself admiring – the fullness of his lower lip, the warmth of his molten chocolate eyes, and _god_ , those freckles! How had she not noticed before?

He continued to tell her about how he envisioned time travel, and she found herself as the assistant, being dragged (or sometimes doing the dragging) into impossibly dangerous situations. He told her about his imagined travel machine – an old blue police public call box – that was bigger on the inside. It was disguise, he explained enthusiastically. The ship could disguise herself to fit in with any environment they found themselves in on their wild intergalactic adventure. When she pointed out that if they landed at any other time, the box would stick out with a sore thumb, but James disagreed vehemently and told her about perception filters and the idiocy of the human race. The chameleon circuit was stuck, he admitted sheepishly, but he'd grown rather fond of the blue box and had decided not to bother with fixing the circuit.

She'd shrugged and laughed, completely absorbed in this imaginative man's world where they were the Doctor and Rose Tyler, the Stuff of Legends.

Well, if he got a code name, she argued, she should get one too. He'd disagreed. Rose Tyler was a brilliant name, he told her seriously. No one went around saving the universe with a name like James McCrimmon, but if Rose Tyler was defending the galaxy, he was certain her name would inspire confidence. He, at least, would feel very safe.

She shook her head at his absurd man and laughed along with him as he recounted tales of their travels. She jumped in at just the right moments, chipping in with witty remarks and snarky quips, making James – _The Doctor_ , he insisted – laugh.

Neither noticed that they'd long since intertwined their fingers across the table.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry it took a while, loves. I've got so many ideas running around in my head right now it was tricky to just keep this one in my mind! Hope you enjoy!**

"Morning, James," Martha smiled at him when he came into work the next day. She followed him into the staff room, closing the door behind her and leaning against it with her arms crossed, smiling at him while he shrugged out of his coat and tied on his apron.

"Hello, Martha," James smiled her somewhat uneasily, wondering why on she kept looking at him like that.

She pressed her lips together as her smile widened. "I spoke to Rose last night." She told him matter-of-factly.

James ignored the way his lips pulled into an involuntary smile at the mere mention of her name, but he could tell by the look on Martha's face that she hadn't missed smile. "Did you?" He asked lightly.

Martha _hmm_ 'd in assent and moved away from the door, going directly to their staff table and sitting down lightly, still looking at him with that weird look on her face. Neither spoke for several moments, and it was Martha, once again, who broke the silence. "I heard you had a good time on your pretend date." She said casually.

He whirled around on the spot to look at her. " _Pretend?_ " He sputtered, his eyes wide and his hair still wild from the wind outside. "She said _pretend_ date?"

Martha laughed at his panicked expression. "No, she didn't." She told him between chuckles, ignoring his answering glare. "But good to know that's your response to me even suggesting you might not have gone on a real date."

He ran his hand through his hair self-consciously. "It wasn't going to be, but…" He trailed off, shooting Martha a desperate look.

"Right," Martha said with a wide grin. "So you'll be going out again?"

James's eyebrows pulled into a frown at the sudden change in her voice, and he searched her expression to see some trepidation there. "I hope so." He said carefully. "Why?"

Martha smoothed her hair, a nervous tick of hers he'd noticed some time ago. "It's just…" she hesitated, pressing her lips together. "Look, James," she said with a sigh. "You're a great person, from what I've seen, but Rose is really important to me. I know it's a bit early to be having this talk, but if you're planning on seeing her again, I just need you to know that if you hurt her, I can make your life really difficult."

James blinked a few times, looking at her unsurely, wondering whether or not she was being serious. "Bit early on to be threatening me, don't you think?" he asked, his voice coming out in an undignified squeak.

Martha shrugged. "I just want both of us to be on the same page." She told him simply, standing from her seat and moving to the door. She placed her hand and opened it, only to stop before exiting the staff room and looking at James with a teasing glint in her eyes. "Plus, this was just the preliminary warning. If you do end up dating, you get Mickey's threatening chat. And he's known Rose longer than I have." With that she closed the door behind her, chuckling to herself as James watched her leave with wide eyes.

James carefully ran his fingers through his hair one final time, Martha's words running on a loop through his mind. What was it about Rose that inspired so much loyalty? Martha was the one who had introduced them, for Pete's sake! She must have assumed they would go their separate ways as soon as they were out of sight, he mused, but still, she'd set them up for their fake date. There had always been a chance that they would get along, and, now that he'd met Rose, he wondered how Martha hadn't already guessed that they would get along, considering their similar humours.

And where did Mickey come into this? James knew that Mickey was Martha's long-time boyfriend, and had met the man a few times himself when they'd gone out to pubs after work. Mickey had never mentioned Rose, as far as he could remember.

Still confused, James made sure his apron was well fastened before leaving the staff room and getting to work, a fake smile on his face. He ignored the fact that Martha was watching him carefully most of the day.

* * *

"Afternoon," a light, teasing voice greeted from behind him.

James whirled around in surprise – he hadn't heard anyone sneak up on him – and found himself face to face with Rose, who was smiling widely at him. Her hair was pulled up into a loose ponytail today, showing the tips of her ears, which were tinged red from the brisk breeze. She was wearing a different jacket that she had been yesterday, and he found he quite liked the fitted black leather that wrapped itself rather snuggly around her torso. The pink scarf was still there, and he felt his cheeks flush at the memory of tugging her close to him with that very piece of fabric. She was still wearing her worn leather gloves, and she was gripping a brown paper bag loosely in her fingers.

"Rose!" He said delightedly, a real smile on his lips for the first time that day. "What are you doing here?"

She shrugged, still smiling. "Martha told me what time your _admirer_ usually comes," she told him with a wink, "and I thought, 'hey, I'm his girlfriend, so I should already be there when she gets here and tries to convince him to leave me for her'." She informed him cheekily, making him chuckle. "And, I told you, my work is close by, so I decided to walk over while I'm on my lunch break. So here I am."

"Here you are," James repeated happily, leaning forward to press an impulsive kiss to her forehead. When he pulled away, he saw that her cheeks were significantly more pink than they had been before, and was suddenly worried about his brash actions. She wasn't _really_ his girlfriend, after all. But instead of telling him off or stepping away from him, Rose simply smiled sweetly at him, and he felt a rush of affection for this girl he'd just met.

"Oh!" Rose said suddenly, jumping. She held out the paper bag to him just as he saw Reinette enter the coffee shop. "Brought you a present," she told him, the tip of her tongue poking out from under her canine. His eyes zeroed in on the pink before he met her eyes again and smiled, taking the offered bag and knowing Reinette was watching their interactions closely.

"You did?" He blinked, real surprise in his voice as he unfolded the bag and peered in it. "What is it?"

"Banana bread."

His eyes widened and his eyes snapped to her face, where he saw a teasing smile and warm eyes. "Really?"

"Really," she laughed. "I hear bananas are good."

He stared at her for a moment. He'd mentioned his love of bananas to her yesterday, and she'd laughed and squeezed his hand and told him she'd remember that, but he hadn't expected her to _do_ anything about it! Especially when she barely knew him. He watched Rose's expression falter as he continued to look at her, and, realizing she was worried about his reaction, he grinned widely at her, seeing her own smile widen as he did so.

"Yeah, they are." He told her happily. "Thanks, sweetheart." He slung his arm over her shoulders and squeezed, pressing a kiss to her temple and feeling the burn of Reinette's glare. "I'm really sorry about this," he whispered sheepishly, his lips still touching her skin.

She laughed good-naturedly, "Of course." She replied to both comments, looking at him with a smile on her lips and mischief in her eyes. She patted his cheek, laughing at his whine of protest.

Reinette made her way over and smiled coldly at Rose before greeting James with significantly too much familiarity in her voice. Rose didn't falter, however, and greeted Reinette enthusiastically. Then she frowned, eyeing her taller rival strangely. "Reinette, did you switch shampoos?" She asked innocently, peering at the other girl's hair.

Reinette scowled. "Of course not," she sniffed arrogantly. "I use only the best. Why would I change?"

Rose shrugged, the picture of innocence. "Sorry," she said with false sweetness, "it's just that your hair is doing something…different today, and I couldn't quite place it. I was going to suggest you go back to whatever you were using before, but I suppose I was mistaken. I hope you can fix it."

James valiantly fought the laughter that was pushing its way up his throat as Rose made her backhanded comments.

Reinette pressed her lips together. "You're obviously mistaken."

"Sorry about that," Rose said profusely, then she looked up at James, who was already looking down at her with something like admiration on his face. "Sweetheart, maybe we could chat in the staff room for a few minutes? Martha will let you take your break, won't she?"

"Of course," James replied, placing another kiss to her temple and enjoying the flush in her cheeks and how she bit her lip when she smiled. "Coffee?"

"Oh, please," Rose replied with a deeply grateful tone. "You know what I like. I'll meet you in the staff room?"

James nodded, an affectionate smile on his lips and his eyes shining with warmth, and Rose stepped away from him, taking the bagged-bread with her, giving Reinette a wide smile and a small finger-wave before ducking out of the room. Before Reinette could say anything, James moved towards the counter, getting started on a coffee for Rose. He didn't, in fact know what she liked, giving him a free reign that was as exciting as it was terrifying – what if he made something she really didn't like?

Trying not to fuss too much – he didn't want Reinette to get any ideas – he got to work on a sweet caramel drink that was decently popular, paying attention only to the drink and not to the blonde who had followed him to the counter.

"Perhaps while you are back there you could make my coffee as well, James?" Reinette suggested, a falsely sweet but alluring smile on her lips.

"Sorry, Reinette," James said with a quick smile, "but my break isn't very long, and Rose is waiting. I'm sure Martha would be more than happy to make whatever drink you order." He finished off a caramel drizzle and waved to Martha, who was standing at the cash register with an amused look on her face. She nodded to him and he quickly went to the staff room door, giving Reinette a small wave before shutting the door behind him and letting out a deep sigh.

Rose was sitting at the small, communal table, watching him with humour in her eyes. She'd shrugged out of her coat, which was on the back on her seat, and he could see the simple but elegant white blouse she was wearing. She smiled widely at him when he closed the door, and he returned her smile with a slightly tired one of his own. He carefully placed the steaming mug down on the table before all but collapsing into his seat.

That woman would be the death of him, he thought to himself. How was he supposed to get rid of a woman who wouldn't back off, even if he had a girlfriend?

"Is that for me?" Rose's voice pulled him from his reverie, and he looked up to see her eyeing the warm drink on the table with a particular smile – one he thought might be just for him – with her tongue poking out from under her canine tooth. He took a moment to appreciate the tantalizing bit of pink before pushing the mug in her direction. She picked it up and took a sip.

Her quiet moan of appreciation resulted in his entire face becoming beet-red, but she was kind enough not to say anything, though he thought he might have seen her push back a smile.

"That's gorgeous," she told him warmly, "thank you, James."

He smiled at her. "Least I could do, considering you're helping me fend off that woman," he said teasingly.

"Hmm," She took another sip of the coffee. "Seems to me, I'm doing most of the fighting," she observed shrewdly.

He blinked. "What do you mean?"

She set the coffee down carefully, a delicate frown on her face. "It's just…have you even _told_ her you're not interested?"

"Of course I have."

"No, I mean, those words. I know it sounds ridiculous," she told him honestly, "but some women – some _people_ – need to actually hear the words before they realize. I'm sure you've tried to subtly send her on her way, and I'm a last resort, but I always feel like people don't actually just try telling the brutally honest truth."

He regarded her seriously for a moment. Had he told Reinette the truth? He'd certainly tried to _show_ his disinterest by keeping distance between them, and he'd corrected or turned down her assumptions and lewd invitations.

At his look, she nodded sheepishly. "I thought as much."

He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous tick he couldn't seem to be rid of, "you think I should just tell her up front?" He asked, watching her with wide eyes.

She barked out a laugh. "Yes."

"I don't want to hurt her feelings."

Rose looked at him for a moment in wide-eyed surprise before bursting out into laughter. James ignoring the reddening in his cheeks as she continued to laugh and wiped tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said when she'd caught her breath, a wide smile on her lips and the occasional chuckle slipping through. "That's sweet, it really is, but James, you've resorted to pretending to date someone you don't even know because she won't take the hint." She smiled affectionately at him and reached across the table to gently take his hand. "I think it's time to be a little rude. Be _honest_ , for Pete's sake."

"Being rude goes again what my mum taught me, Rose." He told her honestly, a smile on his lips.

"I'm sure your mother would realize that it's time to be rude, now, James," she told him mock-seriously. Hesitantly, she reached up and gently ran her fingers through his hair, and the sensation seemed to tingle from his scalp down to his toes. "Rude and not ginger," she commented idly.

"Rude and not ginger?" He repeated somewhat dumbly, resisting the urge to moan as her fingers softly mused his hair. She _hmmed_ in assent. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Are you ginger?"

"No."

She smiled. "There you go, then." She glanced at the silver watch on her wrist, and the smile disappeared. "Time's up, I'm afraid," she told him, and he hoped he wasn't imagining the disappointment he heard in her voice.

With a sigh, he rose, offering her his hand. She took it with a smile and kept a hold of it as they left the room, letting go only to shrug her jacket back on and fix her scarf. Reinette was still in the coffee shop, sitting in one of the plush couches. He walked Rose to the door and looked at her ruefully. She was smiling up at him already, and briefly her tongue poked out again.

 _Oh,_ that wasn't helping things. It _really_ wasn't helping things at all. Her eyes were warm honey and her smile was pink softness that he was desperate to feel on his own lips instead of his cheek, but he wouldn't kiss her here, not now. He wouldn't kiss her to prove a point to Reinette.

When he kissed Rose Tyler's lips, it would be for her and her alone.

So, with a sigh, he lightly pressed his kiss to her forehead and she squeezed his hand. They stayed that way for a few moments, until a lightly chuckle escaped her. "I have to go," she told him quietly.

He made a whining noise in protest and she shook her head at his foolishness, standing on her tiptoes before to lightly kiss his cheek, as she'd done before. She gave his hand a final squeeze before stepping away from him, waving quickly to Martha, who waved back with a cheerful smile, and stepped out of the shop.

As soon as she was gone, Reinette was at his side, watching Rose as she tucked her hands into her pockets and made her way down the street before looking at James with something like distain on her otherwise beautiful face. "I don't see her for the two months I'm here and now twice in two days?" She told him, arching one eyebrow. "It seems almost as though you planned it that way, mon chère."

James rolled his eyes, ignoring the warmth he could still feel in his stomach from Rose's visit and the tingling sensation on his cheek where her lips had touched it. "I'm not 'your chère', Reinette, and I didn't ask Rose to come. She came because she wanted to." The words, which he hoped were true but couldn't be certain Martha hadn't asked Rose to come today, made an involuntary smile appear on his lips. He very much Rose to drop by his work just because she wanted to, not because Martha had asked her.

Reinette sniffed. "Well, I thought you had better taste than some nobody," she told him, the tone in her voice suggesting she was disappointed in him.

"Rose is _not_ a nobody." James snapped, barely containing his anger as he glared at her.

"No?" Reinette replied daintily, her perfectly plucked arching delicately. "I am a descendant of Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson. My family is a patron to at least four up and coming artists and my father _ministre d'état_ for the French government. Tell me, mon chère, does your Rose even compare to me?" She smirked confidently at James, whose anger had swelled through his core and into his throat. He was certain his eyes were burning with anger, and he felt of twinge of satisfaction when she had the sense to take a step away from him, though she still had an overconfident smirk on her lips.

"Rose is honest and beautiful and doesn't need titles to make her feel important," James snarled, Rose's words about being honest forefront in his mind, though he was fairly certain she hadn't meant for him to attack Reinette so viciously. "She's honest and sweet, and she _cares_ , which is more than I can say about you. She draws people in instead of alienating anyone who doesn't have a fancy title. It's not that she doesn't compare to you, Reinette, it's that you don't compare to _her_."

Reinette's mouth popped open as she regarded him with wide eyes, wounded expression on her face.

"She's also the heiress to the Vitex fortune, and on the board of directors of the Torchwood Institute." Martha's soft voice got both of their attention. She was leaning on her forearms on the counter of the shop, watching the two with a serious expression on her face. "Not that it makes a difference."

James's gaze flicked over to Martha, who didn't appear to be joking, then back to Reinette, who now looked mildly scandalized as well as hurt. He sighed. "Look, Reinette, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be cruel. But it's not the titles that make Rose who she is. It isn't her title or her position or her money that I'm attracted to, it's _her_. She catches my attention and interests me and I want to know everything about her." He said honestly, knowing Martha was listening as attentively as Reinette. "And, I'm sorry, but Reinette, I'm not interested in you."

Reinette seemed to search his face for any hint of dishonesty or doubt before sighing. "Well, that's that, I suppose." She said, looking at James with a dejected expression. "You're certain?"

"I am." _Rude and not ginger_ , he told himself.

Reinette nodded and stepped out the door, letting it swing shut behind her. James turned to find himself face to face with Martha, who was scrutinizing him intently.

"Are you telling me that in two months' time you didn't think to just tell her you weren't interested?" Martha demanded, a small smirk on her lips. James shrugged, and Martha shook her head in mock disappointment. "Wow. You are terrible with women," she ignored James's indignant _hey_! "Should I just tell Rose she doesn't need to pop by anymore? Problem solved?"

Martha's mustn't've missed the alarm that flashed in his eyes. "No," James told her quickly. "No, I'll talk to Rose."


	3. Chapter 3

Rose didn't come in the next day.

James found himself wondering where she was. He hadn't had the chance to talk to her after having successfully dealt with Reinette, and he'd told Martha not to tell her that the situation had been handled. He wanted to be the one to talk to her, and he wanted to make sure she knew that he would be quite disheartened if their affiliation ended now.

She didn't come in the day after that either, and slowly the whole week passed by without her teasing presence. James staunchly refused to admit that he looked over to the door hopefully whenever it opened, because he was absolutely not smitten with the girl he barely knew, but it still stung that Rose had apparently dropped off the face off the earth.

If Martha noticed his bitterness at her absence, she said nothing. He wondered if she had warned Rose off like she had him, or if she'd warned Rose about his obvious attachment to her. Would that be enough to drive her off? Did she feel like he was pushing the charade too far?

Perhaps she'd simply tired of him altogether. The possibility was real but unpleasant.

Had he maybe insulted her in some way? She hadn't seemed angry at him when she'd left the last time, but he would be the first to admit he often missed social cues, something Martha loved to tease him about.

James was fairly convinced he'd never lived through a longer week in his life – even that one week in uni when he hadn't slept for four days straight because he'd been studying for his exams. This was worse.

It was the eighth day of his torture that she finally came back.

James's eyes went to the door as they usually did, and his face lit up when it was finally her coming in. His pleasure didn't last very long, because one look at Rose had him frowning.

She'd obviously lost some weight – far too much for only a few days – and he could see makeup she didn't usually wear around her eyes, presumably to help conceal the fatigue that was creasing the skin around her eyes. Her usually warm gaze was heavy and slightly dull, and he could see the exhaustion in her expression. Her usually immaculate hair was pulled into a messy ponytail; the kind he could see her doing after getting frustrated with hair falling in her eyes. She was still beautiful, of course, because she was Rose and James McCrimmon would always think Rose Tyler was beautiful, but her evidently rough week had left her haggard.

He came out from behind the coffee counter and went over to her, a frown still on his face. Her lips pulled into a tired smile when she saw him and she made her way over to where he was waiting. When she got closer, he extended his arms, offering her hug, and her answering smile was thankful as she stepped into the embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist as he wrapped his around her shoulders. She sunk gratefully into the hug, resting her head on on chest.

At that moment, Martha came out of the staff room, stopping when she saw the two, her eyes widening as she met James's confused expression. She raised an eyebrow in a silent question, and he shook his head slightly not to jostle the girl in his arms. Martha jerked her head in the direction of the staff room, and James nodded. To Rose, he said, "go into the staff room. I'll make you a coffee and I'll be right there, alright?"

She nodded but didn't move out of his grip, making him chuckle. The laugh seemed to help, because when she stepped away there was a slight smile on her lips. Carefully, James pressed a kiss to her forehead, his heart speeding up in his chest as he considered that this was the first time that he was kissing Rose only for her, not as display or an act. The thought made him slightly giddy, though he did his best to hide it from her.

Rose's gaze darted around the room, and finding a distinct lack of Reinette, she looked back at him with a smile, her cheeks flushing pink. Without saying anything more she headed into the staff room, and James went to make her a coffee. He went simple this time – a hazelnut latte that was fairly popular with his customers and that wouldn't take to long.

"What was that about?" Martha asked quietly from her position at the cash register.

"No idea," James said honestly as he expertly worked the espresso machine. He made the drink quickly, eager to get back to Rose. He waved quickly at Martha, who pressed her lips into a tight smile, and headed into the staff room, closing the door soundlessly behind him.

Rose was sitting at the table at the same place she'd sat over a week ago, but this time instead of smiling at him when she saw him come in she was facedown, her forehead resting on her forearms. She looked up when the door closed and smiled weakly. He handed her the coffee and pulled up a chair so that he was sitting next to her rather than across from her. He didn't say anything for several moments, letting her cup the warm ceramic with both hands, staring at it far too intently with tired eyes.

Finally, she looked up at him. "Thank you, James," she said quietly, no teasing lilt in her voice.

Lightly, he ran his hand over her hair, feeling tangles and knots under his fingers that he was certain the Rose Tyler from one week ago had not had. He wanted to ask what was wrong – to comfort her, to take her pain away, but when he found his voice, all that came out was, "are you alright?"

Rose squeezed her eyes shut and scratched her forehead with warm fingers. "Yes," she replied, somewhat on automatic. "No," she amended a few seconds later. Her hand returned to the mug and she let out a deep breath, shaking her head slightly. "I don't know." She said quietly.

"What happened?" He asked, knowing his concern was evident in his voice but not particularly caring.

She didn't reply for several minutes, her heavy gaze back on the coffee mug. Slowly, she lifted her head, her lips lightly pressed together, her gaze directly ahead. "A few weeks ago, I hired a new staff member. He was brilliant, really brilliant, and he knew it, but I figured the cockiness was alright because it was deserved – the man is brilliant with computers. A few of the board members argued. Where I found him…I don't…" she frowned to herself. "The process was…unusual. But I thought he was clever, and I thought that with the right training –" her voice broke, and when she finally looked up at him, there were tears beginning to form in her eyes. She looked away and hurriedly dried them with her fingers. "I guess it became a game to him. Instead of trying to learn to work with us, he hacked into the system using a chip he bought using the company name. Finance assumed he'd been given leave to do it because he had all the proper paperwork. It must have been one of the first things he managed to hack into.

"God knows where he found a storage key that would fit that much information, but he started small. One or two files here and there, seeing if he could slip past our defenses, get some of our less guarded files. It worked – we didn't know what was going on until a week ago – and he got bold. He'd take more files, more information, documents that very few people in the world have access to. He'd put them on a USB key and take them home, we think. We don't know for certain, because he hasn't plugged the dratted thing into any system we can monitor ourselves. Apparently he got what he wanted, or decided he'd proved himself – I don't know – but he didn't come to work last week. No notice, no call in, nothing.

"After a three days, I was notified. I put my reputation on the line for this stupid bloke, and he'd stopped showing up to work. Some of the tech experts took his computer – it's fairly suspicious when someone stops coming in, especially in our division – and worked their tech magic on it. I don't really understand it – I have very little to do with them, usually – but they told me what was going on. We don't even have a full inventory of what he stole yet." She laughed humourlessly. "And we have to hope he slips up and plugs the damn key into a computer we can track to retrieve the information."

James felt a click of understanding in his mind. "You don't know where he is," he realized, his horrified voice barely above a whisper. "He has all this information and you don't know where he is."

"It's my fault." Her words were whispered, but filled with terrible self-loathing and hopelessness. "I hired him. I _vouched_ for him. And now –"

"No," James said emphatically, still lightly threading his fingers through her hair. His free hand went to her cheek, his thumb swiping across her cheekbone to catch a tear that had leaked through. "Rose, it's not your fault. You couldn't have known what he would do," he reassured her as best he could, knowing his words would not ease her sense of guilt.

"But it is," Rose said quickly, meeting his gaze. "James, my job…" she trailed off, her eyes going back to the coffee mug for several seconds before lifting to back to his face. "The technology we have available is incredible. Sometimes it feels like I'm showing the new recruits the universe. You should see the looks on their faces," she smiled wistfully, "and that's all I wanted to do. I wanted to show this clever bloke the universe, because who can really feel entirely self important when it comes to the _universe_?" She sighed deeply. "I let my emotions get in the way, and I've put my company in danger because of it."

"Rose," He gently cupped her face with both hands, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers. "I'm so sorry. But don't let the actions of one man convince you that being kind is a mistake."

"But it was my fault," she whispered again.

Realization hit James hard. "Rose," he said hesitantly, keeping her face in his hands but drawing his head away so that he could meet her gaze. "Have you been at your office for a week straight?"

One corner of her lips pulled into a weak smile. "Is it that obvious?"

And he understood. She hadn't let herself lose her strength for a full week. She'd literally lived in her office to try and make up for her mistake, giving her whole self to her job because she felt that it was her responsibility to fix the ills of the world. It was just so _Rose_ that he couldn't believe he hadn't understood from the moment she'd walked into the shop. This was her allowing herself a moment of weakness in the relative privacy of the café's staff room.

In front of him.

He wasn't sure how to describe how he was feeling. He felt for her, naturally. She was obviously beyond exhausted from trying to fix her perceived wrongs, but he also felt a growing sense of intimacy. This strong girl was showing _him_ her weak side – most people probably didn't even realize she _had_ a weak side, and she had privileged him with the knowledge, seeking his comfort above everyone else's.

That solidified his decision.

"I only have to work for another half hour, then Donna's coming in," he told her quietly, running his thumb over her cheekbones. "Stay here, wait for me, and then I'll walk you home." She opened her mouth to protest, but he lightly pressed his index fingers to her lips. "No buts," he told her with a small smile. "You're not good to anyone if you work yourself to death, Rose. You need to take a break."

Her lips curled into a wry smile, and her eyes warmed considerably. "Doctor's orders, is it?" She asked him teasingly, sounding more like herself.

His answering smile was affectionate as he remembered their joke – the Doctor and Rose Tyler, saving the universe – and he chuckled. "Exactly. What good am I without my sidekick, anyway?"

"Oh, none at all," Rose teased again. "Thank you, James."

He leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to her forehead. "Any time, Rose."

He stood to leave, knowing he had to at least get some work done before he left for the day, and immediately she pulled her cellphone out of her pocket. He pointed his finger threateningly at the device. "No working," he said firmly.

She smiled at him and showed him the screen, where he saw a game of solitaire. "No working," she promised.

* * *

The following half hour, if possible, seemed to pass more slowly than all seven days without Rose combined, because now she was waiting for him in the staff room while he was stuck in the shop, serving drinks with a fake smile and growing impatience.

At 2PM on the dot, the end of his shift, he looked up hopefully at Martha, who was watching him with an amused expression on his face. She jerked her head towards the staff room door, a knowing smile on her lips.

He smiled gratefully at his boss and quickly slipped into the staff room. Rose looked up hopefully when she heard the door, and returned his wide grin with a small smile of her own. He practically floated over to the coatrack, where his preferred long brown trench coat awaited. He slipped it on and checked his pockets for his keys and wallet. Once he was satisfied that he had everything, he turned to Rose, who had already stood from her seat and pulled on her jacket. "Ready?" He asked cheerfully, offering his hand.

She hesitated for a moment before taking it, as though suddenly unsure, but wound their fingers together nonetheless, nodding her assent. He squeezed her hand gently and led her out of the staff room. She seemed mildly confused and looked up at him questioningly as they made their way through the shop to the door.

Both of them waved to Martha and Donna, who had just stepped in for her shift.

"I took your advice," he explained once they'd stepped outside. She inclined her head curiously. "About Reinette, I mean. I told her up front and clearly that I wasn't interested. I think it worked."

She smiled. "I'm glad."

"I wanted to tell you a week ago, but…" he trailed off, looking down at her hesitantly, and to his surprise he saw his own hesitation reflected in her expression. He squeezed her hand. "Rose, I don't…" He frowned wondering on earth he'd managed to have a week to figure out what to say but still come up blank. "I don't want to stop seeing you," he told her quickly. "I think…Rose, I like you a lot," he cursed his useless gob. He would talk for all of England, wasn't that what Jack had once told him? But his usual gob was failing him, and he looked helplessly down at her.

A small chuckle escaped her, and she leaned her head onto his bicep. "I don't want to stop seeing you either." She told him, a small smile on her lips.

"Right," he squeaked. "Good. Brilliant. Molto bene."

She stopped, stopped, looking confused.

"What?" He asked, worried.

"I left my car at my work," she said with a frown.

"Oh." He blinked in surprise. He hesitated before speaking again, "you could come to mine," he suggested, trying to sound nonchalant and knowing he was failing miserably. Her eyes widened in alarm, and he rushed to reassure her, "Not like that! I just meant…bollocks, I just meant you could use the company, and… and I like within walking distance of your work. I could walk you there, tomorrow. To your work, I mean. I could walk you to your work tomorrow."

"I –" She trailed off, biting her lip nervously. "I don't have an over night bag."

He snorted. "You've been living at your work for a week. Do you have a change of clothes there?"

She blushed. "Yes, but –"

"No buts," he told her again. Seeing her hesitant look, he sighed. "You deserve some rest, Rose. Come to mine. We can watch a movie and get some take away, and then go to sleep in completely different rooms." He realized how he might sound demanding, so he added, "you don't have to, obviously, but –"

"I get it," Rose laughed, finally moving her feet again. "Lead the way, James."

He grinned and squeezed her hand, leading her towards his flat.

* * *

She looked around when she stepped into the small flat, taking in the old couch that faced a television that looked like it had seen several upgrades (probably from James rather than a professional), his many gadgets lying around, and the kitchen that was littered in dirty dishes.

Looking around, James realized what a mess the place was. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I wasn't expecting company, and I'm not much of a cleaner…"

"It's fine, James," Rose told him with a smile, slipping out of her shoes and coat. He took the jacket and hung it next to his in the small closet. "It's big," she commented idly, though it was nothing compared to the size of her large flat. "Do you have a flatmate?"

"Yeah," James said as he led her into the living room. "Don't see much of him, actually. He spends a lot of time at work."

"What does he do?"

James frowned. "You know, I'm not a hundred percent sure." He said honestly, shrugging at her. She grinned, hugging herself as she looked around. "You want a cuppa?" James asked, because when in doubt, make tea.

"Sure, ta," Rose said gratefully, following him into the small kitchen.

He tried to take her in discretely. Her makeup was several days old, now that he was really looking, and her hair was still tangled. "You could take a shower, if you wanted," he offered as he filled the kettle with water, wincing when he realized what she might think he was implying.

But she looked grateful. "Yeah?" She asked. "I've been using the decontamination shower at work. Would kill for a real one."

"Of course." He started up the kettle and led her into his bedroom. She trailed a few steps behind as he dug through his drawers for some clothes she could wear afterwards. "I don't have anything that'll actually fit you," he told her apologetically, handing her a pair of his black fleece sweatpants and one of his old Star Trek t-shirts.

"That's alright," Rose said as she took the offered clothes and followed him into the bathroom. He reached into their linen closet, thankful that he'd done his laundry recently and had a clean towel to offer. He placed it on the sink, within reach of the shower, and then looked at her. She seemed somewhat uncomfortable, and, in an effort to help, he simply said, "alright, then," and stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him, wincing at his own foolishness. He moved to the couch and sat heavily, listening to the kettle heat the water in the kitchen and the water that Rose had just turned on in the bathroom.

Rose was taking a shower in his flat.

Rose was _naked_ in _his_ bathroom, only a few feet away from him.

He was glad she couldn't see his whole face flush red. He used the fact that she was in the bathroom to his advantage, washing some of the dishes that cluttered the kitchen. He also changed the sheets on his bed, meaning to offer it to her and sleep on the couch himself. She needed it more than he did, he told himself, and she deserved a clean bed.

The kettle began to hiss loudly and he hurried to the kitchen to take it off the stove, wincing slightly when he burned the tip of his finger on the scalding metal. He decided to leave it for now, so that the water wouldn't get cold while Rose was in the shower, and went back to the couch, wondering what to do with himself while Rose showered.

He opted to turn on the telly, grinning when he saw that EastEnders was on. He wasn't a fan himself, but he recalled Rose telling him she sometimes watched it, and decided to leave it, settling comfortably to wait for her.

 **Progress for our favourite pair! Remember to read and review, let me know what you thought! I hope everyone had safe and happy holidays!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's chapter 4, loves. Hope you enjoy!**

"I needed that," Rose sighed as she stepped out of the bathroom, using a towel to dry off damp blonde locks. He found himself staring – when wet, her hair was almost closer to brown than blonde, and it was pleasantly tousled and tangled by the quick motion of the towel. All makeup was gone from her skin, revealing her pale skin with cheeks reddened from steam. For the first time, he saw no mascara or eyeliner framing her eyes, but her warm hazel gaze was clear and as inviting as it was when she was all done up. His mouth went dry at the sight of her in his old clothes; a raggedy, science-officer-blue t shirt that had been through the wash too many times and black fleece pajama trousers with a small hole in the left knee. "Thank you, James."

He smiled, hoping she wouldn't notice his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. "Of course, Rose," He popped up from his seat, knowing Rose was watching him with something like amusement on her face. The shower seemed to have done her a world of good; her eyes were still tired, and her stance was weary, but the smile on her lips was real, and her eyes were simply tired, not exhausted beyond belief. He felt her eyes on him as he quickly went to the kitchen. "How do you take your tea?"

"One milk, one sugar," she replied from the doorway, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe in a manner that highlighted the curve of her hips – though he could see the movement was completely unintentional; not a calculated move on her part.

"Ah," James said as he poured boiling water into two mugs, "the wrong way."

Rose arched her eyebrows, pushing off from the doorframe and advancing on him. Her arms were crossed over her chest and the damp towel hung from her grip. "There's a wrong way to have tea?" She asked him. The teasing lilt had returned to her voice, and he smiled as he added milk to her tea.

"Oh, absolutely," he hummed in assent, shooting her a grin as a sugar cube _plonked_ into the tea. He stirred it quickly and then passed her the mug, which she took, still eyeing him with a raised eyebrow and a crooked smile, an expectant expression on her face. His smile widened and he dropped two sugar cubes into his own tea. "This," he said, lifting his mug to her eye level, "is the right way. Any other way is wrong."

Her eyes widened in surprise and her smile split into a wide grin. "You're full of it!" She exclaimed, giggling slightly.

"Sort of, yeah," James snarked, tapping her nose with his index finger as he slipped past her, revelling in the brief closeness with her, smelling his shampoo on her even over the warm scent of the tea. Her laugh followed him as he walked back to the couch.

He carefully set his mug down before sitting heavily in the couch, settling his long arms over the armrest and backrest as he settled comfortably into the corner of the sofa.

To his delight, she didn't sit on the other side, like most people probably would have. Instead she nestled herself into his side, sending him a quick smile before leaning forward and grabbing both of their mugs, passing him his and taking a sip from her own. When she settled back against him, he let his arm drop from the backrest to her shoulders, hoping she wouldn't notice his quickened pulse at their position. "What do you want to watch?" He asked her.

She looked up at him, biting her lip self-consciously. "You'll think it's silly."

 _Oh,_ now he _had_ to know. "Go on, then," he urged, a smile on his face as he looked back down to her.

Her answering smile was shy. "It's just…it's been ages since I've watched the Harry Potter movies."

His answering grin was wide. "That's a brilliant idea!" He whooped as he jumped from the couch, missing the way her eyes widened in surprise and a second hand went to her tea mug to keep it from spilling. He placed his own cuppa back on the coffee table and made his way to his rather impressive collection of movies. "Which one should we watch?"

"Begin at the beginning, and go on till you come to the end: then stop." She replied primly.

If possible, his smile widened at her chosen quote, and he plucked _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_ out from the shelf. In seconds, he'd placed the disk into the DVD player and had returned to his seat, anxious to be next to her again. He grabbed the remote from where it had fallen between the couch cushions and hit _play_.

Both of them smiled as the familiar chiming tune began to play. "It's been years since I've watched this one," Rose said as she leaned more heavily against him, her head falling to his shoulder.

"Me too," James said quietly, watching as Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall discussed the dislikable Dursleys. He took a sip of his tea and looked down at the girl who was leaning into his side. With her damp hair and makeup-free face, dressed in clothes that were too big for her rather than the usual expensive clothing, she suddenly looked quite young, and he realized he might have misjudged her age. Where he'd originally assumed she was 27 or 28, she now looked no more than 24. He recalled what Martha had said – she was an heiress and on the board of directors for her work – and realized that to have such a high position at work, she must have been forced to grow up quickly.

A smile formed on his lips when he realized she was mouthing all the words, like some sort of Harry Potter groupie, and he squeezed her shoulder, chuckling.

She looked up at him. "What?"

"You're mouthing all the words."

Her cheeks flushed pink. "Am not," she said weakly.

He laughed. "Yeah, you are. Do you seriously know all the words?"

She quirked one eyebrow and looked at him haughtily. "'There, there, Hagrid. It's not really goodbye, after all.'" She said, imitating Dumbledore's grave voice and making James laugh.

"That's brilliant," he chuckled, making her smile.

She sighed dramatically. "I have a myriad of useless talents," she told him, still in a mockingly serious tone.

"Do you indeed?" James questioned, mimicking her tone.

"Oh, most certainly," Rose nodded, taking a sip of her tea and humming briefly in pleasure. "Discovering them is all part of the Rose Tyler experience, Mr. McCrimmon." She told him with a wink.

Maybe she wouldn't notice the tips of his ears redden. A man could hope. "Is it?" He asked, wincing at the squeak in his voice. Her lips curled into a small smile. She went back to mouthing every character's line to give him time to recover, perfectly imitating Dudley's line; _"daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?"_ out loud and making him choke on his sip of tea.

He moved his arm so that it fell around her waist instead of her shoulders, looking down at her to make sure she wasn't uncomfortable with the change in positions. She smiled slightly, shifting herself so that her legs rested across his thighs, her head still resting on his shoulder. She looked up at him, the slightest bit of hesitancy in her eyes disappearing when he grinned at her. Satisfied with his approval of the new seating arrangement, she nestled more comfortably into his side. "I can't believe it's not even 3PM yet," she said with a small laugh. He laughed with her. "I can't remember the last time I watched telly in the afternoon."

He scoffed. "Then you're obviously doing something wrong. I'll have you know that telly in the afternoon is a regular and much appreciated occurrence in the life of James McCrimmon."

"Is it?" Rose asked, a smile on her lips as her eyes stayed on the screen.

"Oh yes." James nodded. "You have much to learn, young padawan."

It was her who choked on her tea this time, looking up at him as she bit back laughter. "And are you to be my Jedi Master?"

He grinned widely. "I am _so_ happy you understood that reference."

"I aim to please," she teased before returning her gaze to the film, where Harry had just acquired his phoenix-feather wand.

"You're doing a good job so far," he mentioned offhandedly.

Her cheeks tinged bright pink, and he grinned, pleased with himself.

Neither spoke for the next few minutes, both of their gazes locked on the screen as they watched young Harry run through the wall between platforms 9 and 10. They said nothing when James shifted to rest his cheek on the top of her head, but happy smiles formed on both of their faces and Rose bit her lip to hide a smile.

"Did you know there's a bloke that looks like you in the fourth movie?" Rose asks suddenly, not moving from her comfortable position.

"What?" James blinks, frowning in surprise. "Who?"

Rose shifted her head to be able to look at him, forcing him to lift his head. It might be less comfortable, but at least he could see her. Her wide, tired eyes gazed earnestly up at him, their warm colour reminding him of dark whiskey; the kind that got you drunk after only a couple shots. Looking at her now, he realized that even being around her was intoxicating.

Her voice brought him back to reality.

"Barty Crouch Jr." She told him, and it took him a moment to remember what they were talking about.

James grimaced. "Wasn't he disguised as Mad-Eye Moody for the whole movie?"

"Not him!" Rose laughed and lightly slapped his chest, and he caught her hand. "The actor that plays him when he's himself. David something."

"Hmm," James hummed thoughtfully. "Well do you want to watch that one next? That way we can decide with the real thing right here," he squeezed her waist at and winked at her, making her laugh.

"But I love the third one!" Rose whined. "We can get to the fourth one later."

"Well, how many did you plan on watching?" James asked, laughter in his voice.

She shrugged. "As many as we can before I fall asleep."

He looked down at her and saw that her eyelids were already beginning to droop. "Are you even going to get through this one?" He teased quietly. She shrugged and nestled further into his side, letting her head drop from his shoulder his chest, tucking her head into the crook of his neck and sighing contently.

He continued to watch the film, his arms full of his warm bundle. She smelled of tea, his shampoo, and a fragrance that was entirely her own, and her weight against his was strangely comforting. He hadn't dated anyone in years – not since his brief stint with Sarah Jane – and it was therefore very rare for him to hold someone in such an intimate position. He swallowed heavily and pulled her closer, wondering how his fake relationship had turned into this.

Whatever _this_ was.

They hadn't actually established anything, he realized suddenly. He'd told her he didn't want to stop seeing her, and she'd responded in kind, but they hadn't actually clarified what _seeing each other_ was. Was it friends that _saw each other_ on occasion, or was it two people who were _seeing each other_? What did she want? Maybe she just wanted to see him in a friendly way – getting coffee every few weeks, to catch up?

He sighed heavily. He didn't like not knowing where he stood with someone, especially when he knew _where_ he wanted to stand with that someone.

"What?" Rose asked quietly.

"What?" James parroted.

The vibrations from his voice reverberated through his chest and into her core, and she smiled at the pleasant sensation. "That was a big sigh," she told him, shifting her head slightly.

He felt a slight tickle as her eyelashes brushed against his jaw, distracting him again. "Just thinking," he explained evasively, not wanting to explain his confusion and make her uncomfortable, especially when she was sitting flush against him and he could revel in her warmth.

She lifted her head to meet his eyes, searching his gaze with a slight frown on her face, wondering if anything had made him upset. "Something wrong?" She asked him, her voice thick with fatigue and her gaze slightly unfocused.

"No, I just…" he trailed off, taking in her makeup-free face and worried expression. Her eyes were liquid honey and her lips pressed into a slight pout. "I'm just so glad I met you," he told her honestly, reaching up with the hand that wasn't wrapped around her waist to gently tuck a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, gently running his thumb along her cheekbone. He smiled warmly at her.

She unconsciously leaned into his touch, and her lips curled into a slight smile and worry drained from her face. "Me too," she replied, taking in his earnest expression and chocolate brown eyes. His gaze flicked down to her lips and then back to her eyes, and she smiled slowly, her lips curling slowly upwards and the tip of her tongue visible under her canine.

"Rose," James, whispered, his arm tightening around her waist and his eyes dropped to the touch of pink poking out from between her teeth. Excitement surged through his body, and a thrill he hadn't felt with their other chaste kisses coursed through him. This wasn't a show, or him trying to drive another woman off, it was a longing he felt for Rose and Rose alone. He leaned forward slightly, watching her carefully through hooded eyes, not wanting to pressure her. She mimicked his movement, moving towards him and tilting her head slightly, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. James's breath hitched in his throat and his eyes darkened, and Rose felt heat begin to blaze in her core, her cheeks bright red and her breaths shallow and quick.

It was him who closed the distance, pressing his lips against her soft ones and cupping her cheek gently with his palm. She responded to his kiss immediately, adding a gentle pressure to his lips that sent tingling warmth into his stomach. The hand that had been cupping her cheek moved into her hair, his fingers tangling in her still-damp locks. The arm she'd been resting lazily across his tummy tensed, and her fingers pulled into a fist, bunching his shirt in a tight grip. Her free arm snaked its way up his chest to curl around the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in the short strands of his hair at the base of his neck, sending jolts of electricity down his spine. She withdrew for a moment and let out a shuddering breath before pressing her lips to his again. He tugged gently on the soft strands of hair knotted between his fingers and she increased the pressure on his lips, sucking his bottom lip gently.

He was suddenly very grateful to be sitting, certain that if he were standing, his knees would give out and he would tumble gracelessly to the ground. As it was, he tightened his grip on her waist, feeling her borrowed shirt ride up as she shifted against him. His thumb came in contact with an exposed skin, and both parties hissed as the rough skin of his thumb brushed against the soft skin of her waist. He pulled away from her lips, staying close enough that their breaths continued to intermingle, and met her gaze with his own, seeing her hazel eyes blaze with heat and arousal, all traces of tiredness momentarily gone. She swallowed thickly and let her gaze drop to his lips briefly, and her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, the corners of her mouth curling upwards. His eyes widened slightly at the action and their gazes met again.

It was Rose who leaned in for the second kiss, closing her eyes and gently pressing her lips against his, she used the hand at the back of his neck to pull him to her, though he barely needed the encouragement – her lips were as intoxicating and as addicting as the rest of her, and he would give anything for his next dose of her.

"Well, this is interesting."

Rose and James sprang apart at the new voice, their eyes wide and expressions guilty. They looked up to see one Jack Harkness, standing at the door with his arms crossed over his chest and a knowing smirk across his strong features. "Most people notice the door opening and closing," Jack said casually, smiling widely at James, who felt the tips of his ears redden in embarrassment. He turned his gaze to the other participant, and the cocky expression faltered. "Rose?"

" _Jack?"_

 **Don't forget to read and review! Let me know what you thought!**


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter came to me surprisingly quickly, so you all get a super speedy update! The last few paragraphs gave me some trouble, so they're the result of teamwork between myself and a friend, who is always up to read my work and give me opinions and edits.**

Jack Harkness walked up the stairs to his flat slowly, feeling his feet drag and his legs protesting every step of the way. He felt like he hadn't sat down – save for driving his car – in three days. Since a certain sly weasel named _Adam Mitchell_ had vamoosed from Torchwood, many of the higher ups and computer techs hadn't left in days, everyone working at the top of their game to try and recover the top secret files that had been stolen from Torchwood.

In fact, he was relatively certain that one of his favourite staff members and his former training officer, Rose, hadn't left in the office in a week. He'd needed to encourage her to take time away from her desk, dragging her on runs on the facility's track and forcing her to come eat lunch with him. It was the best he could do, knowing there was no way to convince her to leave the building, just like there was no way to convince her that it wasn't her fault.

He tried, several times, to remind her that she wasn't responsible for the idiot's actions. Each time she'd ignored his gaze and pressed her lips together, and he could see the self-loathing in her gaze. Eventually he'd given up, knowing the best he could do for her was to force her to leave her office every few hours, to eat at least twice a day, and make sure she slept at least a few hours a night.

He'd spent the past three days and two nights over at Torchwood, and he'd debated spending the night again, but there was little he could do for the techs, who were doing their best to track down the missing information. After a final glare from one of the technicians, he'd been forced to admit there was little more he could do at Torchwood, and he'd packed up and come home, eager to spend the night in his own bed (he usually wasn't so enthusiastic about _sleeping_ in his _own_ bed, but there was a first time for everything).

He wiggled his key into the lock and let himself into the flat he shared with one James McCrimmon, a friend he'd met when he'd only just moved to London and had been needing a place to live. He'd drowned his sorrows in sweet, caffeinated drinks, telling his woes to the kind barista (who ended up already having a boyfriend and not being interested in a threesome), who'd then informed him that one of her staff members was looking for a flatmate.

Jack had met the man a few hours later, when he'd come in to the shop from his shift, and they'd hit it off, regardless of their opposite personalities. During their long friendship, Jack hadn't known James to spent much time with anyone but Donna, Martha, and Martha's boyfriend Mickey. He'd spent a few months dating a kind woman named Sarah Jane, but the two hadn't lasted and had spilt on relatively amicable terms.

Which was why it was a shock for Jack to walk into his flat and see his flatmate locking lips with a blonde woman whose face he couldn't see.

A knowing grin formed on Jack's lips. The two gave no indication of having heard the door open and close, completely absorbed in each other.

"Well," he drawled, "this is interesting."

The two sprang apart, faces flushed a guilty red. James looked up at him in surprise, as though it had never occurred to him that his flatmate might come home while he was snogging someone on the couch. His usually carefully mused hair was in quite the state of disarray, his eyes were slightly glazed over, and his lips were swollen. Jack smirked, knowing the signs of being thoroughly snogged and not just kissed in passing.

"Most people notice the door opening and closing," Jack remarked, a wide, shameless grin on his face. James's ears went red and Jack fought back the laughter that was building in his throat as he turned his attention to the woman in the room. He blinked in shock when he saw who was looking back at him, hazel eyes wide and dark circles around the eyes, showing her obvious exhaustion. He'd joked about kissing those slightly-too-wide lips several times. "Rose?" He realized, his own eyes widening in surprise.

" _Jack?"_ Rose gasped in surprise, looking between the two of them for a moment before settling her gaze on James. "Your flatmate is _Jack_?"

" _You_ know Jack?" James demanded, equally stunned, his cheeks flaming with embarrassment.

Jack watched the exchange, a smile returning to his face. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it in the small closet, his grin widening when he saw Rose's jacket was already there.

"Hey, don't mind me." Jack moved into the kitchen, grabbing an apple from the fridge and wiping it on his shirt, still grinning at the uncomfortable pair on the couch. "I'm not here. Unless you're into that." He waggled his eyebrows. James shot him a glare while Rose rolled her eyes, familiar with his antics and willing the blush to leave her cheeks.

Obviously giving up, Rose heaved a sigh and settled back against James, who placed his arm around her waist, back into the position they'd been in before. They both turned their attentions back to the screen to watch Harry Potter get sorted into Gryffindor.

"Do you want to watch the movie, Jack?" Rose offered diplomatically. James looked at her in surprise, and she shrugged. "Are you really going to want to go back to what we were doing before if he's in the apartment?" She teased, her tongue poking out from her grin.

James's eyes unabashedly zeroed in on the tantalizing bit of pink. "Guess not," he sighed dramatically, his arm tightening around her waist as Jack sat on the other end of the couch. He shot the American a glare, and Jack read the message loud and clear.

 _Hands off the blonde_.

"So, boss," Jack began, ignoring James's glare, "how do you know James?"

Rose wrinkled her nose, and Jack saw the brief adoring look it got her from James. "Is there such thing as the opposite of a wingman?" She asked Jack, the pink mostly gone from her cheeks. He shrugged, and she smiled, looking at James and then back to Jack. "James was having trouble with a very… _persistent_ …woman at the shop. My friend Martha called in a favour."

"A favour?" Jack repeated, getting the gist of the story but knowing that the more Rose talked about it, the more uncomfortable James got and enjoying his flatemate's discomfort. Rose grinned up at James, who sighed.

"Rose pretended to be my girlfriend so that the other woman would back off." He explained drily, still glaring at Jack, who was still happily ignoring the looks.

Jack settled more comfortably into the couch. "Really taking your role to heart, aren't you, boss?"

Both of their faces flushed red again, and Jack's grin widened. This was too easy.

Suddenly James frowned, looking between Jack and Rose in confusion. "Why do you keep calling her 'boss'?" He asked Jack, who realized his slip. Jack and Rose exchanged a wide-eyed look. Rose swallowed thickly and looked down. "You work together?" James realized, frowning. Both Rose and Jack were strangely secretive about their jobs, so he supposed it made sense, but it was one hell of a coincidence.

Neither Rose nor Jack spoke for a few seconds, exchanging unsure looks. Rose remembered James telling her he didn't know what his flatmate did, so she wasn't sure how trusted James could be with the finer details of their work at Torchwood.

 _But_ …

She'd willingly gone to James about her current troubles at work. True, she might not have given him any real details other than important information had been stolen and she felt responsible, but she'd still gone to him. It was him she wanted to turn to after a long day, regardless of the fact that realistically, she barely knew him. Still, she could probably tell him some of the truth, if not all of it. "I…was Jack's training officer when he first started at Torchwood." She said slowly, looking at Jack rather than James, both of whom were watching her carefully.

James lifted his gaze to Jack, confusion written across his features. "You work for Torchwood?" He asked his flatmate, wondering why he hadn't known. Jack nodded tensely, watching Rose carefully. He wasn't sure how much Rose had revealed to James about Torchwood, but he knew it was probably very little – Rose took the secrecy of the institute very seriously, which was one of the reasons she felt so directly responsible with the current information leak.

James looked down at Rose, whose shoulders had tensed significantly. Her face became blank, as though she were afraid of what she would give away. She swallowed and looked up at him hopefully. "No work, remember?" She told him quietly, trying to somehow convey the message that she _would_ tell him, just not now.

His nostrils flared as he looked at her, wanting to know the truth. Then he sighed. The whole point of bringing her here was so that she could get away from work for a few hours, to get away from the stress. He could see that the current conversation was causing her to feel the very stress he was supposed to be easing. "No work," he promised, seeing relief and gratefulness in her expression. She shot a look at Jack, who was watching with an unreadable expression. With a sigh, she shifted against James, resettling her head in the crook of his neck and resting her arm across his stomach, closing her eyes.

The fatigue that had disappeared during their… _previous activities..._ was back in full force, and she let out a heavy breath, feeling James's arms tighten around her. She could feel Jack's eyes burning into her back, but decided to ignore him in favour of cuddling up to James. She felt James's cheek rest against the top of her head and his nose in her hair, and she smiled to herself. She allowed her mind to wander, feeling the blank blissfulness of sleep beginning to ease her mind, and she let it. She could feel the vibrations of James's chest, presumably because he was talking to Jack, and let the calming sensation lull her to sleep.

* * *

"Is she alright?" Jack asked James, seeing the protective way the other man held her to his chest as her breathing evened out in her sleep.

"She's fine," James replied quietly, not wanting to wake her. "Just tired." He slowly (and soothingly, he hoped) ran his thumb over the small patch of skin between her t-shirt and the waist of the borrowed trousers.

Jack watched with an unreadable expression. "She was there for seven days straight." He said needlessly, turning his attention back to the movie.

"I know."

"I couldn't make her leave."

James frowned at his flatmate, who was now decidedly not looking at him. "You tried?" He asked, unsure of the relationship between the two of them.

Jack was quiet for a few moments because he spoke again. "She told you what happened?" He asked, and James frowned at the lack of an answer.

"Yeah, she did."

Jack looked at her, still not looking at James. There was a fondness in his friend's gaze that worried him. "Then you know how she feels. She thinks it's her fault."

"It wasn't." James snapped quietly.

Jack finally lifted his eyes to James's face, his expression serious. " _I_ know that," he told James. "I didn't say that I thought it was her fault, I said _she_ thought it was her fault. She's stubborn. I tried to convince her to leave, but so long as she was adamant that it was her fault, she wouldn't. I did what I could," he continued earnestly, turning his gaze back to the telly, "I made sure she remembered to eat, and got some exercise." He sighed. "A lot of us have been practically living there, trying to sort everything out."

"Is that where you've been?" James asked boldly, wondering what sort of information he could get on Jack's job.

"Yeah," Jack replied simply, not offering up any information. He looked back at Rose, then up to James. "How did you convince her to leave?"

James shook his head. "I didn't. She came to the shop." Jack's eyebrows rose, but he said nothing. It seemed very unlike his favourite brigadier to leave willingly. He wondered at the depth of their relationship. Neither had actually mentioned how long the "fake" relationship had been going on (though he was certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it was not longer just a _fake_ relationship). "She looked…" James trailed off, finding himself at a loss for adjectives to describe how she'd looked when she'd finally come into the shop, and shook his head.

"Beaten," Jack said quietly, and James lifted his gaze to him. Jack continued, "she puts on a good show, but those of us who know her, we can see it. Which makes me wonder," he could almost feel James tensing up as he finished his sentence, "how long _you've_ known her. Because Rose is one of the strongest people I know. Probably _the_ strongest. So who are you to her that she let you see her like this?"

James had half a mind to tell Jack to piss off, but as he met the man's steady gaze, he saw that the intruding question was not out of anger or even nosiness, but rather out of care for Rose. They may have been friends and flatmates for years, but there was no doubt in James' mind that if it came down it, Jack would be in Rose's corner.

That led him back to a thought he'd had the previous week, when he'd been talking to Martha about his relationship with Rose. She'd said that if he and Rose actually developed a relationship, he'd face Mickey's brotherly speech as well, and he'd wondered what it was about Rose that inspired such loyalty in people. Now he was asking the same thing. What was it about Rose that made Jack – and Martha and Mickey – so dedicated to keeping her safe and protected? Not to mention that he'd only met her a week ago, seen her thrice, and now she was sitting half on his lap and he was holding her as though keeping her in his arms could protect her from the ills of the world. Whatever spell she cast on people, it was affecting him, too.

"I don't know who I am to her," he found himself saying. "I know who I want to be, I think, but I don't…" he struggled for the words again, "I don't know who she wants me to be. I think that I could be anything she wanted. If all she wants is a friend, I could do that. It's like…" he trailed off again, knowing Jack must be laughing internally as he struggled to express how he felt.

Jack's small smile was crooked. "You'll take whatever she's willing to give," he finished for James, who nodded. He couldn't have phrased it better. Jack's smile widened. "Yeah, she brings that out in people. I don't know what it is, exactly, but people want to know her. Most of the time, anyway."

James said nothing, unsure of whether or not the conversation was over.

It wasn't. "You never said how long you've known her." Jack pressed.

James blinked. "Does it matter?"

"Yes," Jack said sharply.

James let out a breath, looking at the screen rather than at Jack. "A week." He answered reluctantly.

He missed how Jack's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "A week?" Jack repeated, and James nodded.

Jack had known Rose since he'd started at Torchwood four years ago, and he knew that while Rose made friends easily – her bubbly personality and easy smile drew people in – but she didn't have many close friends. So for Rose to trust James this much after only knowing him for a week was very unlike her, and Jack found himself concerned for his former boss, as well as determined to keep a close eye on the two, regardless of how good a match they were.

* * *

"Did you guys plan anything for dinner?" Jack asked from the kitchen, looking into the near empty fridge and wincing.

"No," James replied from his position on the couch, Rose still draped over him.

Jack had to hand it to James. The man hadn't moved from the couch since Rose had fallen asleep two hours ago. He didn't even seem bothered, instead looking completely comfortable with the woman strew across his lap. Rose, in her sleep, also seemed completely comfortable using James as a pillow. Jack grinned to himself. He recognized the looks James had been giving Rose – he'd seen them on the faces of Martha and Mickey when they looked at each other, and on the faces of his old friends Amy and Rory, and on Gwen and Rhys…he'd never seen that look on James's face, and the very idea that James had found someone that made his face look like _that_ made Jack smile.

"You want to get some take away?" Jack suggested cheerfully.

"Sounds good to me," James nodded. He bent his head so that his lips were near Rose's ear. "Rose. Wake up," he whispered. She stirred against him and groaned, tightening her grip on his waist. "Rose," he whispered again.

"Wha'?" she grumbled into his shirt.

"What do you want for dinner?" He asked her quietly.

"Don't care," she mumbled.

"Pick something." He encouraged, a teasing not in his voice.

"No," she whispered, and he could see the corners of her lips turn upwards.

"Rose," he said again, a little louder, "pick something to eat," he told her, squeezing her sides gently and making her jump and giggle slightly.

"Stop," she laughed.

"Pick something to eat," he bargained, "and I will." He squeezed her sides again, and she wiggled.

"James!" She laughed, fully awake now.

Jack felt a strange need to avert his eyes. Though the two weren't being overly physical, and Jack wasn't the shy sort, but he felt as though he were looking on something strangely intimate.

* * *

"Jack."

Jack looked up to see James and Rose smiling at him from over the back of the couch, Rose's face slightly flushed. "Yeah?" He replied, raising his eyebrows and smirking.

"We decided on Chinese," James said, wincing suddenly and shooting a surprised look at Rose, who smiled innocently. He winced again. "Stop poking me!"

"You poked me," Rose replied indignantly. "I have to take advantages where I can get them." She looked at Jack and shrugged.

"This is as adorable as a basket of kittens," Jack drawled as he pulled a menu from their drawer, holding it up for James and Rose to see. "Let's pick some food."

 **Pretty pretty please remember to review! I love to hear what you think, if you have ideas for me, what you think _should_ happen or will happen, or if you think it was a terrible chapter. Constructive criticism is good! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Longer wait and shorter chapters, sorry loves, but I didn't want to get into the events of the next day quite yet. Hope you enjoy this little bit of awkwardness between Rose and James!**

Discarded cardboard containers littered the table, and James, Jack, and Rose sat comfortably on the couch, completely full after their large meal.

"I haven't eaten that much in weeks," Rose groaned, holding her stomach and leaning heavily against James, who had one arm slung casually over her shoulders. He shot a curious look at Jack, who was looking at Rose with an unfathomable expression.

"Why haven't you been eating?" James asked, keeping his voice purposefully light when Jack said nothing.

Rose shot a wide-eyed look at Jack, as though hoping he would save her from having to answer. Jack simply lifted his eyebrows as her. James was grateful and surprised. He didn't have a doubt in his mind that Jack cared deeply for Rose, and it was slightly strange – and uncharacteristic of what he'd seen of Rose's friends – that he wasn't jumping to defend her. He realized then how concerned Jack was for Rose – he wouldn't defend her not eating to James, not if her health was at stake.

"No time," Rose answered shortly, realizing very quickly that she did not like getting ganged up on by the two.

"Really, Rose?" Jack asked idly, taking a sip from his class of water. "Seems to me that you'd have a lot of time to eat, considering you were at work for twenty-four hours a day for seven days."

Rose pressed her lips together, shooting Jack a glare. "I was there for a reason, Jack. If I'm not mistaken, you were there for a few days at a time, too," she retorted drily, obviously feeling slightly under attack and not liking it one bit.

James squeezed Rose's shoulders, and she turned her irritated gaze to him. "No working," He told her quietly. Her face stayed stony for a few more moments before she finally relaxed, letting out a deep breath. She leaned her head on James's shoulder, shooting a final glare at Jack, who innocently raised his glass in to her in a mocking salute before taking another sip.

Rose returned her gaze to the telly, where Harry Potter was riding Buckbeak for the first time. "I could see you doing that." She said quietly to James, who almost didn't hear the comment.

"What?" James chuckled.

She gestured to the screen. "Going flying on a hippogriff. I could see you doing that."

James blinked, unsure of what to say. "Is that a good thing?" He asked curiously, looking down at her just as she looked up to his face.

She shrugged, a smirk on her lips. "Makes you the protagonist, I suppose," she teased, tilting her head so she could examine his features, even though it was at a slightly awkward angle.

His gaze flicked down to her lips before he met her warm eyes. "Of whose story?" He asked quietly. A faint blush crept into her cheeks, and he smiled fondly.

A small smile blossomed on her lips as she regarded him, taking in every freckle and every feature. "Not sure yet," she told him, and he felt a shred of hope bloom in his stomach. "We'll see, I suppose."

"I suppose we will," James answered, trying to sound nonchalant regardless of the fact that he found himself unable to keep the wide smile that was quickly forming at bay.

Jack, in a very _un_ -Jack-like manner, took that as his cue to leave. "Well, kids," he said loudly, grinning when Rose and James jumped, looking at him in surprise. "That's it for me, I think. I'm going to take a shower and get to bed." He patted Rose's calf, which was quite near him as she lounged on the couch, and stood up, making his way to the bathroom.

James looked at his watch in confusion. "Jack, it isn't even 6:30," he told his flatmate, internally wondering what on earth he was questioning his flatmate's motives. Jack was getting out of his hair, and he should absolutely let him. Things had been going perfectly well before his arrival, after all.

Jack turned when he got to the doorway of the bathroom, a knowing smirk on his face. If he looked carefully, James realized he could see hints of exhaustion on the man's handsome features. "Yeah, and I've been stuck at the office for four days. If she can fall asleep on the couch at 3 in the afternoon," Rose's blush darkened, "then I can go to bed at 6:30." He closed the door of the bathroom before Rose or James could argue, and they heard the shower knob swivel on and water start to run.

Rose looked up at James and shrugged, once again resting her head on his shoulder and turning her attention to the telly. Though she had managed to get a nap in, James could still see the fatigue in her eyes, and he knew that she probably wouldn't last much longer. "Do you want to go to bed, too?" He asked her quietly, hoping she didn't because he was still very much enjoying cuddling with her, and he would absolutely be the gentleman, giving her his bed whilst he slept on the couch. It wasn't the most comfortable piece of furniture, and James was certain that he would wake up with a stiff neck and a sore back, but she needed a real bed and some rest more desperately than he, and he didn't mind giving up a single night's worth of sleep if he could convince her to finally give her body some time to recover.

To his delight, she shook her head, musing her hair even further against the cotton of his shirt. "After the movie, maybe," she answered, a wide yawn punctuating her statement.

"Okay," he murmured, resting his cheek against her hair.

* * *

A nearly overwhelming tiredness had returned to Rose's mind by the time the film was over, and when she finally managed to stand up from her comfortable position against James, her limbs felt heavy. Thinking and processing anything he said to her was difficult, and she was dimly reminded of trying to see through fog, squinting to see into the mist.

It reminded her of drunkenness, in a way, but this was much less pleasant. Alcohol didn't make her extremities feel as though they were weighted down by lead.

James managed to scrounge up a spare toothbrush, still in its packaging, and passed it to her triumphantly. She grinned when she took it, making quick work of brushing her teeth so that she could finally close her eyes and let sleep overcome her. Her face had already been scrubbed when she'd taken a shower, so she was satisfied that, teeth smooth under her tongue, she was ready to go to sleep. She realized suddenly as she exited the bathroom that she and James hadn't discussed sleeping arrangements.

While she didn't want to commandeer his bed, if she slept on the couch, that would limit his movements – he'd essentially be trapped in his room until morning, and it was only barely 8PM.

As she hesitantly walked back into the living room, James poked his out from his bedroom, smiling at her and motioning with his hand for her to follow him in.

"Got the bed ready for you," he said cheerfully, tossing the comforter over the sheets. "Clean sheets. Figured if I can't give you a clean apartment, I can at least give you clean sheets." He smiled widely at her, gesturing to his bed as though it were an exhibit in a museum and she should _oooh_ and _aaah_ in response.

She looked at the bed in surprise, then back up to James, who was grinning at her with a hint of hesitation in his expression. His hand went through his hair – a clear sign of his discomfort – and she realized he was waiting for her to say something.

Finally, she smiled. "Thank you, James," she said sincerely, moving over to where he stood to wrap him in a tight hug, which he returned. She felt like she'd thanked him at least ten times since arriving at his flat only a few hours ago, but it felt as though the _thank you_ 's did not accurately represent her gratefulness to him for taking care of her, regardless of how difficult she unintentionally made it.

"Of course," He said quietly, knowing the tips of his ears had gone pink again. She pulled away from their hug and gently pressed her lips to his cheek, and his skin warmed under her touch. For a moment she met his eyes, as though gauging his reaction, then she leaned in and lightly kissed his lips. It was chaste and short and when she pulled away from him she smiled warmly, and he reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear before leaning forward and pressing his lips to her forehead.

Her cheeks tinged the colour of her namesake and he felt warmth and affection stir in his core. "Good night, Rose," he half-whispered, running his thumb lightly over her cheekbone and repressing a shiver of delight when she leaned into his touch.

She blinked slowly and her lips pulled into a slow smile. "Good night, James," she replied, her voice barely more than a whisper. She stepped out of his grip and he moved toward the door, reaching up to flick the light switch off, stopped by a hesitant, "James?"

He turned to meet her gaze and saw that she was looking at him with and unsure expression on her face, her teeth sinking tantalizingly into her lower lip. "Yeah?"

Her teeth released her lip but she immediately pressed her lips together, and as they curled around her teeth slightly he realized she was the picture of insecurity. "I just…I wanted…you don't have to…" she shook her head, her cheeks bright pink and her eyes not directly meeting his gaze. "You don't have to sleep out there," she gestured to the couch, "I just mean," she made an irritated noise and ran her hand through her hair before finally holding her hands up exasperation. "I don't mind sharing. The bed, I mean. We can sleep in the same bed, without…" she gestured again, her face bright red.

Realization dawned on him, and his eyes widened, "oh," his felt his face heat up. "Um. Thanks."

She nodded jerkily and bit her lip.

He swallowed. "Alright, then," he said hurriedly, flicking the light off and closing the door behind him.

* * *

Rose let out a breath when the door closed behind him. She hadn't meant to sound so… _awkward_. All she'd wanted to tell him was that she didn't mind if they slept in the same bed because undoubtedly his bed was more comfortable than the couch, and it was _his_ flat, after all.

Not to mention the fact that falling asleep against him, his arms wrapped protectively around her, had been the most comfortable she'd been in years.

She blinked and then groaned, covering her face with her hands. There was no way she could bring that up without sounding horribly and terribly awkward, she realized, no matter how well-meaning the offer was. The damage was done.

She climbed into the inviting bed and burrowed under the covers, hoping that if James _did_ , by some miracle _,_ choose to sleep in his bed, with her, rather than the couch, her face would no longer be bright red.

Or, if it was, which seemed likely at this point, that he wouldn't notice.

With a deep sigh, she closed her eyes and hoped that sleep would come easily, though she was certain it wouldn't come as easy as when she was pressed against James's side, his arm around her waist.

* * *

James wrung his hands, sitting on the couch and absentmindedly watching the news. It was only 9:30 – far too early for him to consider going to bed. But with Rose bundled in his bed and a standing invite to cuddle up next to her, going to bed was very, _very_ tempting.

He shook his head at his own folly and rose from the couch, clicking off the telly and making his way to the bathroom brush his teeth and wash his face.

He was a grown man, he told himself. If he wanted to go to bed at 9:30, he could.

Especially if a gorgeous woman was there too.

The process was fast – mostly because _Rose was waiting in his bed_ – and he was ready to sleep a few minutes later. He went to his bedroom and placed his hand on the handle, pausing.

He took a deep breath, telling himself to stop stressing out. After all, he'd spent the entire afternoon with Rose on his lap, it wasn't like this was going to be much different. If anything, there would probably be more space between the two of them on the bed. He opened the door quietly, slipped into his room and closed the door soundlessly behind him, giving his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dark room before attempting to move.

It took longer than he expected, but eventually his eyes adjusted and he could see the Rose's outline under the blankets, and he could safely climb into bed without crushing her or accidentally kicking her. He moved to the side of the bed she wasn't occupying and slid in, feeling his heart pound loudly in his chest and wondering how the loud and quick beat of his pulse hadn't woken her up.

She shifted and her eyes slowly blinked open. They widened when they came landed on him, and it seemed to take a few minutes for something to sink in. "James?" She whispered, turning to look at him.

"Yeah," he whispered back. "This okay?"

"Yeah," she repeated. After a few seconds, the blankets rustled and he felt the mattress dip slightly. Quite like that she was next to him, her face only a few inches from his and her eyes glinting slightly, reflecting a light he couldn't see. A stray strand of hair tickled his nose. "This alright?" Her question was a barely audible whisper.

Feeling a stroke of boldness surge through him, he inched closer, loosely wrapping an arm around her waist and resting his forehead against hers. "Yeah," he replied breathlessly.

She shifted until she was comfortable, almost pressed flush against him, her head tucked under his chin. He heard her inhale deeply before quietly responding, "good."

He smiled affectionately and closed his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Because I am excitable and can't stick to a schedule. When I finish a chapter I'm just too excited to share it with you all! This chapter is extra long to make up for the last one, which was pretty short.**

Rose woke slowly, her eyes lazily blinking open and revealing the unfamiliar room. For a moment, panic shot through her; where was she? A soft snore drew her attention to her side, where her eyes landed on a still sleeping James, and all tension melted out of her in a moment. She yawned widely and shuffled comfortably against her human pillow, and he responded by tightening the arms that had managed to use to encircle her waist. Tentatively, Rose lifted her head to spot his alarm clock. The light from the small device was harsh against her sensitive eyes, so she had to squint to make out the time. _4:43AM_. She resettled her head comfortably on his chest, feeling his heart pound slowly and steadily under her touch.

She was far more comfortable than she'd been in the past week, during which most of her sleep had occurred at her desk in the form of short naps between caffeine-induced hazes. Now she cuddled against James's warm body, enveloped in his soft blankets and in a comfortably dark room.

And she had to use the loo.

 _Bollocks_.

She deliberated for a moment, but it only took a few seconds to realize that it couldn't wait, and, with difficulty, she managed to slip out of James's grasp. She paused when he whimpered, but when she looked over he was still asleep, though a frown had creased the skin between his eyebrows. She reached over and soothed it with her thumb before pressing a light kiss to the spot, and the creases disappeared. She smiled affectionately at his sleeping form before quietly slipping out of the room.

To her surprise, the lights in the kitchen were already on, and Jack was watching the coffee maker fill a clear pot of coffee with bleary eyes. He was already dressed in his usual attire – a clean, pressed oxford and dark trousers held up by braces, but his hair was still mused from sleep and his expression had yet to clear. Rose made sure to quietly close the door to John's bedroom so the light from the kitchen wouldn't wake him up.

The noise caught Jack's attention and he looked up in surprise when he saw Rose in too-big fleece pajama bottoms and borrowed t-shirt, her hair a tangled mess from sleep. He may have been tired, but he still smirked at the sight of her, used to seeing her completely put together. "Mornin', boss," he greeted.

She briefly held up her hand in a lazy wave, and Jack's smirk widened. Rose Tyler had never been – nor would she ever be – a morning person. She made her way to the bathroom and closed the door behind her, and Jack turned his attention back to the pot of coffee, wishing he'd had the foresight to start it, then get dressed, so that he wouldn't be stuck staring at it.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before Rose re-emerged, her hands damp from washing them and still otherwise looking half asleep. "You're up early," she commented to Jack, moving to the kitchen and plopping heavily into one of the chairs, punctuating her statement with a wide yawn that Jack had to admit was rather adorable in her tired state. Jack could count on his fingers the amount of times Rose had looked her proper age – twenty-five – in front of him, usually seeming older due to her confident and put-together appearance and high military rank making.

"So are you," he replied simply. Then he grinned, looking more like himself, if only a tired version. "I'd have thought James would have exhausted you," he looked meaningfully at the door to James's bedroom from which she'd emerged and winked salaciously at her. He'd noticed immediately upon waking up that James was not sleeping on the couch, which Jack had been certain he'd try to do, knowing his flatmate to be a gentleman. Rose snorted in a distinctly un-lady-like manner, and Jack bit back a laugh. While he liked Rose in all her forms, just-waking-up-Rose (if she was not angry with him in particular) never failed to put a smile on his face. She never seemed more human and normal than when she was her grouchy, non-caffeinated self.

The coffee maker beeped promisingly and Jack pulled out his largest mug, filling it to the rim with the dark liquid and taking a sip that burned his tongue. He let out an appreciative breath once he'd swallowed and raised an eyebrow at Rose, who was still sitting at the table and watching him with a disinterested expression. "Want to ride with me to work?" He offered, "I was going to leave after this cup, but I could wait if you wanted to come."

Rose bit her lip and her gaze flicked over to the door to John's bedroom. Jack didn't miss the look and a wide grin returned to his face. If he'd have thought that Rose and James would have gotten along so well, he would have introduced the pair years ago. He shrugged nonchalantly and took another sip. "Or come in later, whatever works."

She looked up at him unsurely, her teeth still gnawing at her lip. "I should go in," she said, though she didn't seem to want to at all. "If you're going in, I should too."

Jack shook his head. "Come on, now, boss. I was there for three days. You were there for seven. You can take a few more hours to relax."

Rose's expression morphed into painful hope. "You think?"

Jack was struck with another bout of hatred for Adam Mitchell. If Rose loved anything, she loved her job, but the idiot had made it painful for her, making her feel like she couldn't relax until she'd solved the problems she thought she'd caused. "Of course," he lightly placed his palm on her shoulder, looking at her seriously. "Take a breather, Rose. I'll call if anything comes up."

Rose smiled gratefully at him, rising from her seat. "I'll see you later, then," she said with another lazy wave, turning and heading back into James's bedroom. She slipped in quietly, opening and closing the door soundlessly and feeling Jack's eyes on her back until she was completely out of his line of sight. She felt a wave of gratefulness for her friend and sighed loudly once the door latched behind her.

She moved directly to James's bed, where he was still resting peacefully, and slipped under the covers. She shuffled until she was pressed against him once more, her head resting comfortably on his chest and one arm draped lazily over his torso. In his sleep, he shifted and maneuvered his arms to wrap them around her waist once more, and she smiled widely against his chest, feeling warmth and giddiness bubble in her core. She let out a deep breath and closed her eyes, and sleep overtook her once more.

* * *

The first thing that James became aware of when he woke up was the unfamiliar weight on his chest.

The second was the scent of Rose's hair.

He opened his eyes and looked down and the girl in his bed. He couldn't see her face, only the top of her head, but her breathing was even and slow, and her arm was resting across his torso in a lazy but strangely possessive manner. He turned his head to look at the time.

 _8:07_

Surprise slowly registered in his mind, his thoughts still groggy and muddled from sleep. He'd expected her to be out the door freakishly early, yet she was still fast asleep.

Oh, well. He certainly wouldn't argue, knowing that regardless of what she thought she was probably desperately in need of a day off. He was certain she wouldn't agree to that, so for now he decided to simply let her sleep until she woke up.

Trouble was, James, unlike Rose, _was_ a morning person. After a few moments of allowing his brain to wake slowly, he was completely aware and awake in his bed, though very reluctant to move. With a deep, content sigh, James loosened his grip on Rose's waist and brought one hand up to her hair, gently running his fingers through the tangled locks and massaging her scalp. She muttered something unintelligible against his chest, still asleep, and he smiled fondly at the precious bundle he held in his arms.

He allowed his mind to wander, though it never strayed too far from Rose. He wondered about her relationship with Martha. He hadn't forgotten that he'd had the fortune to meet her because she'd owed Martha a favour, apparently for something Rose thought was hilarious. He wondered if he could bring it up again. She'd nearly brought herself to tears laughing last time they'd discussed it, and he wanted to know what on earth was so funny. He wondered about how she _knew_ Martha. They seemed to be from completely different worlds – Martha had grown up in a perfectly average – perhaps upper middle class – household, while Rose, apparently, had grown up an heiress to one of the largest corporations in the world. Chances were that she'd lived a relatively privileged life.

He wondered how she knew Mickey. Had she met Mickey through Martha, or Martha through Mickey? Perhaps she'd met them when they were already together. No, that wasn't right. He recalled Martha telling him that Mickey had known Rose longer than she had.

James frowned. He was relatively certain that Mickey was a mechanic, and again he was left with the question of how Rose became acquainted with someone may as well live in a different world. She wasn't what he would expect from an heiress – she wasn't cold or distant, nor did she seem to care about stations and status – but still, it seemed strange.

She knew Jack through work, obviously.

And wasn't _that_ puzzling? He couldn't imagine Rose with the same sort of top-secret job Jack seemed to have, but if she'd been his training officer when he'd started four years ago, that would mean that she'd started at least a few years before him. He frowned. He didn't actually know Rose's age for certain, but she must have been incredibly young for a training officer. He wondered how someone so young got involved in that sort of secrecy.

He wondered at the protective nature of all her friends. She was involved in some sort of military organization, he figured, if it was top secret, held a distinguished position – Martha had said she was on the board of directors – and was obviously more than capable at her job, and yet all her friends defended her fiercely. He wondered, not for the first time, what it was about Rose that inspired that sort of loyalty. Even he, after knowing her for only a few days, felt the need to protect her, even from herself, but he chalked that up to the fact that he was very quickly falling for the mysterious blonde.

A loud buzzing startled him out of his thoughts and he quickly picked up the offending item – a ringing mobile – so that it wouldn't wake Rose. She shifted against him, and he held his breath, but a second later she'd stilled again and he let out a breath of relief before answering the mobile. "Hello?" He greeted quietly, continuing to run his fingers through Rose's hair with his free hand.

" _Who the hell is this?"_ came a sharp voice on the other side. James blinked in surprise, pulling the mobile away to look at the caller ID. Realization hit him when he looked at the mobile in his hand and realized that it wasn't his.

"Mickey? It's James, from the coffee shop," he greeted hesitantly, hoping that Mickey's promised threats could wait.

There was a pause on the other end before Mickey spoke again. _"Why are you answerin' Rose's mobile?"_ He asked bluntly, apparently opting not to bother with small talk.

"She's sleeping," James winced, hoping Mickey wouldn't jump to conclusions.

Another pause, followed by a loud sigh. _"Well, she definitely needed to get some sleep, so that's alright, I suppose. Tell her to call me when she wakes up."_

"Is it important? I could wake her…" he really hoped it wasn't important.

" _No, don't do that. Let her sleep. I can talk to her later."_ James breathed a sigh of relief and was about to bid Mickey goodbye when the other man spoke again. _"I hope you realize that I'm letting this go for now, but you and I will be having a conversation very soon."_

 _That_ sounded threatening.

"Sure," James replied, hoping he sounded calm and unbothered. Mickey hung up without another word, and James stared at the device for a few seconds before setting it back down on his night stand."

"Who s'at?" Rose mumbled against his chest.

His arm returned to her waist. "I didn't realize you were awake," he told her apologetically, keeping his voice.

"'M'not. Who s'at?" She mumbled again, her words barely discernable.

He smiled, keeping up his ministrations with her hair. "Mickey. He wants you to call him later." He informed her.

"'S'it important?" She asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

"I don't think so."

She shifted comfortably against his chest and let out a loud sigh. "'Kay," she replied simply. Apparently, a half-sleeping Rose had no problem with vague answers. "Time s'it?"

He looked at the clock. _8:29_. "8:30," he told her, grinning when she groaned loudly. "Not a morning person, I take it?" Another loud groan. "How about," he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, "while you wake yourself up, I go make you a cuppa?"

She shifted against him so that her hands were one on top of the other and rested her chin on her knuckles, looking at him through bleary eyes, a tired smile on her face. "You're a right saint, you are," she told him seriously.

He chuckled and leaned forward, kissing her forehead gently before shifting away from her. She rolled onto her back to free him of her weight, and her eyes tracked him as he made his way to the door.

Finally a few feet away from her, he could take her in completely. Her hair was dishevelled and her shirt riding up slightly, exposing the soft skin of her midriff. Her sleepy eyes reminded him of thick honey, and her gaze didn't leave him for a second. The sheets hand tangled themselves around her waist when she'd turned over, and it didn't escape his mind that her current state was probably similar to one she'd be in after certain other – _ahem_ – activities. He felt his face begin to flush red and he quickly turned away from her, slipping quickly out of the bedroom.

Jack's door was open and his bed vacant. He must have gone to work early. He ignored the remnants of coffee in the clear pot and went to filling the kettle and setting on the burner. While he waited for the water to heat up, he went into the loo to straighten out his wild hair and quickly brush his teeth to get rid of any morning breath. The loud hiss of the kettle sent him scurrying back to the kitchen, and he went to making Rose's tea.

She emerged from the bedroom just as he finished, her hair tossed into a messy bun on top of her head and the oversized clothes hanging loosely off her slight frame. Though she was more awake than a few minutes ago, there was a lingering bleariness in her gaze and her smile was languid and slow. Her face was still clean of any makeup.

He was relatively certain he'd never seen anything so adorable in his entire life.

She sat heavily at the kitchen table and he placed the cuppa in front of her, earning a tired smile. He smiled back and set to making his own cuppa.

Rose didn't speak until half her tea was gone and her eyes were clear. "What did Mickey want?"

James shrugged from his position in the seat next to her, both hands cupping his mug to warm his palms. "He didn't say." He told her, looking at her curiously. He wondered if Mickey calling her in the morning was a regular occurrence, and chided himself for pang of jealousy that passed through him. Mickey was dating Martha – he had absolutely no reason to be jealous of the other man.

Rose frowned but said nothing, taking another sip of her tea.

James took her in, getting a clearer picture now that she was more awake. There were still lines of fatigue on her beautiful face, though not nearly as pronounced as they had been yesterday, and he could tell by her expression and slouched position that she didn't particularly want to go to work. He decided to push his luck. "Do you really have to go in today?" He asked her quietly, watching her reaction carefully. "You could stay, you know. I could call into work, we could finish watching the movies…"

She gave him a tired smile. "Yeah, I really do," she told him bluntly. "I've got to get this sorted, James."

He sighed. "I tried, at least." He shrugged, and Rose smiled as she took the final sip of her tea.

Once the mug had been drained she stood from her seat and placed it in the sink, filling it with hot water to prevent staining. "Tell you what, though," she said, turning to face him. "Once it's sorted, I could take a whole day off, and we could spend the day together…you know, if you wanted."

He rose from his seat and stood across from her, a slight smile on his lips. "Yeah?"

She smiled up at him. "Yeah."

His smiled grew and he stepped closer to her, his hands going to her waist as he tilted his head and pressed his lips to hers. He felt her mouth curl into a smile under his and her arms wrapped light around his neck. She stood on her tiptoes to improve the angle, though the kiss was kept soft and chaste. When he pulled away, his hands remained on her hips and her arms remained around his neck. "So, can this be a regular thing?" He asked cheekily, kissing her lips again briefly.

She let out a quiet laugh, meeting his eyes with her honey-warm gaze. "I would very much like if this was a regular thing," she replied, the teasing lilt he knew returning to her tone.

He grinned. "Good," he told her, "because I don't know if I'd be able to stop." He kissed her again, smiles on both their faces and her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

* * *

"Got everything?" James checked as he opened the door.

Rose rolled her eyes. "Not like I brought much over," she retorted, though humour shined in her eyes. He nodded seriously and she smiled at him, slipping her purse over her shoulder and pulling on her favourite leather gloves. She nodded to James, who reached out a hand. Her smile widened and she interlocked their fingers, liking how easily their hands fit together.

The walk to Torchwood was short, and they walked at an easy pace, their joint hands swinging casually between them as they walked, mostly in silence. The lightness that Rose had felt at James's flat was gone, and the weight of her responsibility at Torchwood began to press her again. James noticed the change but said nothing, knowing there was nothing he offer her at this point except his support.

Once they arrived at the tall building, Rose smiled up at him. "Thanks," she told him.

He smiled back at her. "Any time, sweetheart."

Rose's smile widened at the moniker, and he made a mental note to use it more often.

* * *

Rose was incredibly thankful she always had extra clothes stashed at the office in cash she pulled all-nighters. Dressed in a light pair of black trousers and a professional looking blouse and blazer combination, Rose thought she'd done rather well for herself for someone who hadn't actually been to her own flat in the past eight days. Her current shoes were fancy and black with an inch-long high heel, but her trainers were tucked under her desk.

Fancy shoes were not good in case of running. And Rose did like the running.

At the moment, Rose was sitting at her desk, frowning at the computer monitor as she scrolled through several CCTV feeds, looking for any sign of Adam Mitchell. Through use of his credit card statements, they'd tracked his usual haunts, but Adam was nothing if not clever and purposefully avoiding those places. Rose wouldn't be surprised if some of them were faked to keep them off his trail.

She jumped in surprise when someone knocked insistently on her door. "Yeah?" She called.

The door opened to reveal a breathless Jack. "We got something." He told her quickly.

She was out of her chair an instant later, following Jack at a run to the technicians' area of the office, where peoples' excitement was nearly tangible.

"We might have an IP address," one of them, a woman Rose was pretty sure was called Liz told them quickly.

"How sure are we?" Rose asked, her eyes wide and her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't want to get her hopes too far up, knowing there was absolutely a chance that Adam was fooling them. "Have we got CCTV?"

"Negative," another technician, Paul, called back. "Which actually makes it more likely to be him. He wouldn't use a public IP address."

Rose nodded decisively. "Good enough for me. Let's get a team out there."

* * *

Rose's chosen team – herself, Jack, Mickey, and tech expert named Tosh, moved with practiced efficiency.

The four split into two SUV's, Tosh and Jack in one and Mickey and Rose in the other. Jack and Rose each drove while Mickey and Tosh worked away at their computers from the passenger side. The cars were connected through Bluetooth, allowing the four of them to converse.

Mickey stole a glance at Rose, who was looking dead ahead, her expression unreadable and her lips pressed together. "We've got him, Rose," he told her quietly. She jerked her head in a sharp nod, her expression not changing.

"Five minutes," Tosh informed them over the Bluetooth.

"Right," Rose said decisively. "Coms in," everyone quickly put their silver Bluetooth-like devices into their ears, checking them to make sure all of them were working correctly. "Good. Let's remember who we're dealing with, guys. Adam Mitchell has Torchwood training, but he wasn't with us long enough to become particularly proficient in anything except his computer skills. Let's surround him quietly – I don't want him sneaking out any exists we miss, and I don't want him to hear us coming. Let's do this one. If we mess this up, I'll have to live at the office again, and I'm pretty sure the director will kill me himself before letting me do that again, and I definitely want to be part of the team that catches the snake." They all chuckled as the car pulled to a stop. "Tosh, you've got those stupid surveillance cameras hacked?"

"I've got them on a loop. We maybe have five minutes before he realized something's up, so let's do this quickly," Tosh told them.

Rose's heart pounded furiously in her chest as they crept around the house Adam was using. As predicted, and quite luckily for them, Adam was so focused on whatever he was doing on the monitor that he didn't notice the team sneak in past what he thought were hidden cameras. Rose peered into the room where they'd detected life sighs and saw the back of Adam's head, heavy-duty headphones on (which Rose privately thought was a big mistake, but she wouldn't fault him for making her job easier) and his back hunched as he quickly typed away on the screen. She nodded to her team – Mickey at her back, Tosh and Jack in the other doorway, and they crept into the room silently. All four of them had their guns at the ready as they soundless moved in on their unsuspecting target.

Tosh and Mickey remained in the doorways, eyes darting expertly around the room and guns at the ready while Rose and Jack snuck up behind Adam.

Jack pressed the barrel of his gun against Adam's temple, and Rose felt an grim satisfaction in her core when the idiot jumped and looked between them with wide eyes. He immediately looked for his exits, panicking slightly when he saw his only ways out blocked by Tosh and Mickey. Knowing he was beaten – Adam was technically savvy, but there was little he could do against four expertly trained Torchwood agents, especially with four guns trained on him, Adam held up his hands, panic and anger marring his otherwise attractive face. Jack, his face grim, made quick work of handcuffing Adam and nearly lifting him out of his seat, leading him towards the vehicle with Mickey at his back in case Adam somehow managed to try anything. Their task was to get Adam to Torchwood as quickly as possible so that he could be locked up safely to await his military tribunal.

Once they were out of the room, Rose nodded to Tosh, who quickly made her way to Adam's spot and sat down, her fingers flying over the keyboard with practiced eased. Rose waited tensely behind her, gun still at the ready and posture tense.

A few minutes later – though it felt like hours to Rose – Tosh spoke. "Got it," she said triumphantly.

"You've got it?" Rose whispered, hope coursing through her at Tosh's two words.

Tosh retrieved the USB key from the computer and held it out to Rose triumphantly. "It's done, Rose." Tosh assured her. "The information is secure and we've got Adam."

Relief washed over Rose and she let out a slightly hysterical laugh, wrapping Tosh in a tight hug when the woman finally stood up. Tosh grinned widely at her as Rose took the key and tucked it safely inside her pocket.

The drive back – Rose and Tosh in their own SUV this time – was uneventful and quiet. They had both been amongst the Torchwood members who'd barely gotten any rest over the past week, and they revelled in the feeling of success.

As soon as they arrived back at Torchwood, Rose informed Director Pete Tyler that she would be taking the next day off.

 **They've got Adam! Woo! I don't think we'll be seeing too much more of Adam - Rose can only handle so much stress, after all! Hope you all enjoyed this and are having an excellent January (it's gotten cold here, finally. As a winter person, I always hate green Christmases).**


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry loves. I know it's really short, but this chapter just didn't want to get written. So I'll work on making the next one extra long to make up for it. For now, we get some insight into Rose Tyler.**

 _What time does james finish tmrw?_

 _-RT_

 _12PM_

 _-MJ_

 _k thanks_

 _-RT_

Rose smiled to herself. She was at her flat, sitting on the plush and comfortable couch that had been a gift from her parents. Admittedly, it was much nicer than the old couch she'd spent most of yesterday on (though it could be argued that a significant portion of that time had been spent on James's lap rather than the actual couch), and Rose had no trouble finding a comfortable position on her familiar sofa, but she missed James's warm presence.

She couldn't go back to James's. She'd the better part of yesterday at his flat, not to mention spent the night. Perhaps if they'd been officially dating, she could have returned to his for a second night, but they'd met less than two weeks ago, and they'd kissed only yesterday. Rose certainly couldn't go back again.

So she would settle with popping by his work tomorrow instead and seeing if he had free time. That was more…organic. More normal. She didn't often get to do normal.

Rose let out a heavy sigh, bringing a pillow to her chest and hugging it loosely, watching the telly lazily. The previous week's tension was all but gone from her shoulders, and she revelled in the sensation. With a wide grin that was only for herself, she quickly hoped off the couch and practically skipped to the kitchen to prepare herself a cuppa, humming a song to which she didn't know the title.

In her youth, Rose dated a musician named Jimmy Stone. She'd moved in with him after only having dated two months at sixteen years old, and had quickly become isolated from her friends and family as Jimmy had grown increasingly jealous and angry.

She'd caught the attention of a young mechanic one particular night out. He'd tried to warn her about Jimmy, whispering the rumors he'd heard about him through the grapevine, but Rose had stubbornly decided to ignore him. Seeing he wasn't getting through the her, the mechanic had sighed and had passed her a napkin with his name, phone number, and address scrawled onto it, promising that if she had no one else when all was said and done, he could help her. Rose had been about to rudely tell the mechanic off, but when she'd looked at him she'd seen genuine concern in the man's features, and something possessed her to keep the napkin, tucking it safely away where Jimmy wouldn't find it. In the end, that had been one of the best decisions she'd made in months.

While he had never physically hurt her, the psychological and verbal abuse had been crushing to her self-esteem and self-worth, and it had taken Rose far longer than she liked to admit before finally leaving the tosser behind.

She'd gone directly to Mickey's rather than her mum and dad's, embarrassed after having shouted cruel words before slamming the door shut and leaving the mansion for what she'd thought would be the final time. Mickey had gaped at her in surprise when he'd opened the door to see her standing there, a sheepish and apologetic expression on her face and knowing that her hope for him to forgive her was visible in her eyes. For a brief moment, Rose feared he might have forgotten the young girl he'd tried to protect in a dark, dingy club almost eight months back.

But then he'd pulled her into a tight hug, and she'd returned it with equal force, squeezing her eyes shut to keep away tears that had threatened to overcome her. He'd made her a (terrible) cuppa at his small flat, and had been the one to convince Rose to go home to her parents' the next day.

Jackie had welcomed Rose back with loud screams and tight hugs, and while Pete had joined in the latter, he hadn't screamed or shouted upon seeing her. As she'd been wrapped in a tight hug by her mother, she'd seen the tears in her father's eyes, and for the first time in months, Rose allowed herself to cry.

Mickey had watched the scene unfold from the doorway, having come at Rose's insistence. At first, Jackie had lunged to slap the poor boy, thinking he was just another no-gooder after her daughter, but Rose had rushed to reassure Jackie that without Mickey's help, she never would have gotten away from Jimmy in the first place.

And that was all it took. Rose was swept back up in her life as an heiress (Pete's PR job had done an excellent job in covering her eight-month absence by assuring the curious tabloids that the young, charming Vitex Heiress had been in Europe, travelling), and Mickey became one of the family so quickly he didn't even notice it happening. He attended the luxurious parties and spent many nights at the Tyler Mansion for family nights. He had no family of his own, his mother and grandmother having died and his dad gone before he'd grown up, and now Mickey welcomed the kind (if somewhat brash) Tylers as a pseudo-family.

Her thoughts drifted back to James. He'd been so kind to her, and she was fairly certain she'd been a terrible fake girlfriend. Fake girlfriends didn't usually drop of the face of the earth with no notice whatsoever. At least, if James was to be believed, when she'd gotten buried at work he'd finally gotten the guts to tell Reinette the truth.

She smiled as she thought back to the gentle touches and forehead kisses he'd offered her, even when Reinette wasn't around, and his warm smile paired with a chocolate gaze. She thought of his wild brown hair and how she'd been tempted to run her fingers through it on the first day they'd met. Her cheeks flushed as she recalled their walk, when he'd shown her how Reinette had trapped him by pulling on her scarf until their faces were mere inches apart. She couldn't have denied how her breath hitched and her heart seemed to skip a beat at his closeness, even when she'd known him only for a few minutes.

She thought of the unconditional support he'd offered her when she'd appeared at the coffee shop, probably looking a complete fright, and the concern in his gaze when he'd seen her.

She reached up and lightly touched her lips with her fingers, drawing to memory the sweet, chaste kisses from only this morning and the passionate embrace from last night. Butterflies filled her stomach as she thought back to the softness of his lips against hers, or of his hands on her waist, pulling her flush against him.

Her lips pulled into a smile as she thought of James. He was undoubtedly one of the kindest people she'd ever met.

 **Don't forget to review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry for the delay, loves.**

James sighed, glancing at the clock for the tenth time in the past hour. His Tuesday morning shift was boring – it had been busy earlier in the morning, with people stopping by to pick up their caffeinated drinks on their way to work or class, but now it was past eleven and the shop was nearly empty, with only a few chairs occupied by people he presumed to be students, judging by the way they worked quickly on their laptops, fingers flying across the keyboard and only pausing to take sips of their drinks.

He was bored. He'd already cleaned what could be cleaned, he'd made all his coffee, he'd stocked up on all his pastries, and he'd put more napkins in brown take-away bags than he could count, and now there was nothing left to do.

Martha was in the staff room, presumably working on some administrative task that would bore him to bits. He checked the clock again.

 _11:37_

Less than half an hour left and he could go home. He could wait out twenty minutes. Twenty minutes was nothing. He quickly stepped away from he counter, slipping into the back area of the shop where the pastries were baked to sneak a drink of water. He groaned quietly when the doorbell chimed, signalling the arrival of a customer. He downed a quick sip and went back out front, a friendly smile on his lips.

He found himself face to face with Mickey Smith.

"Hey, Mickey," James greeted, hoping the other man wouldn't notice the slight hesitancy in his voice.

Mickey nodded. "James," he greeted informally. "Martha in the back?"

"Yeah, go on in," James offered, slightly relieved that Mickey wasn't here to threaten him about anything.

"In a second," Mickey said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking James over carefully, as though he were scrutinizing the taller man. "So, you're the one that's been hanging about with Rose?"

Ah, so maybe Mickey was here to threaten him after all. "Um…yeah, I suppose that's me."

"Right," Mickey said, looking at James as though he'd just dribbled on his shirt. "And how long have you known her?"

"A little more than a week," James answered, knowing it sounded rather pathetic and shifting uncomfortably his weight between his feet.

Mickey raised his eyebrows, still scrutinizing James with a hard black gaze. James struggled not to squirm uncomfortably. "A little over a week and she's already spending the night?"

"That's not – I didn't – We – "James began to blurt out unceremoniously. He then loud out a deep huff, shaking his head and gathering his thoughts before attempting to speak again. "Nothing happened," he finally settled on, seeing Mickey continue to eye him suspiciously. "I brought her to mine so she could take a break from a situation at work. Did she tell you about what went on? She looked like she hadn't slept in days."

Mickey's eyes flashed with something James didn't recognize. "I'd heard about it," he replied evasively. Under any other circumstances, James might have wondered about the vague answer, still under the full strength of Mickey's guarded and hard gaze, his thoughts didn't stray too far from the current conversation.

"Anyway, something's going on at her work. She stopped by to see me on her lunch and I told her to take a break, so she spent the afternoon at mine, and she ended up falling asleep on my couch, so I just let her spend the night. She'd left her car at Torchwood, anyway. I couldn't have sent her home. But nothing happened," James stressed again.

Mickey continued to glare at James for several long moments, as though he was mulling over James's story in his mind and making sure there were no important gaps or information he'd left out.

"Right," Mickey finally sniffed. "Well, James, Rose is important to a lot of people, understand? A lot of people who wouldn't take very kindly to her not being treated the way she deserves," his glare was hard and his expression forbidding. "Rose had been to hell and back. She needs someone who understands that and respects her for it. And if you're not that person – if you're not going to treat her the way she deserves – you'd better step away from her, understood? Because if you continue this… _whatever_ this is, and Rose ends up getting hurt, there's going to be hell to pay, and I can personally make sure that happens. Clear?"

James swallowed thickly and nodded, trying not to appear to cowed by Mickey's impressive show of power.

Mickey nodded sharply. "Good." Just as he turned away, apparently intent on making his way into the staff room to greet Martha, the doorbell chimed again.

James plastered a friendly smile on his face, knowing it didn't reach his eyes, and lifted his head to greet the customer.

Rose.

As soon as she saw him, her face broke into a wide grin. He carefully catalogued every aspect of her appearance. There was still evidence of fatigue around her eyes, but it seemed more as though she'd been woken up by an unpleasant sound than not sleeping for nine days. She seemed to be wearing less makeup than she usually wore – the only cosmetic he could make out was a light coat of mascara to darken her lashes and frame her warm whiskey eyes. Her hair had regained its glossy sheen and hung loose, curling slightly over her shoulders. He was certain that if he ran his fingers through her locks, he wouldn't find a single tangle or knot. She was back to wearing the black pea coat she'd worn when he'd first met her, the belt tightly cinched around her waist and emphasizing her slim figure, a light blue scarf peeking out from under the collar this time. Her light-wash jeans fit her legs like a second skin, and he couldn't help but smile at the worn, grey plimsolls that she'd chosen over a classier pair of shoes. It was very _Rose_.

Her eyes flicked over to the person he'd been taking to and she frowned in surprise. "Micks?" She asked, and Mickey turned to face her, seemingly equally surprised. "What are you doing here?"

He smiled and shrugged. "Came to see Martha," he told her, making his way over and slinging an arm over her shoulders, "what are you doing here, babe?" He asked as though he didn't already know, shooting James a look.

 _Babe_?

He was not jealous.

He was absolutely _not_ jealous.

Mickey was dating Martha. He'd been dating her for several years now. He had absolutely no reason to be jealous of the ease with which Mickey touched Rose, and how contact with Mickey was obviously comforting to her. He had no reason to be jealous of Mickey for calling Rose _babe_ or whatever other nicknames he used.

But he was.

He was very jealous that Rose smiled easily up at Mickey and leaned into his side, obviously very familiar with him. He was jealous of the lack of uncertainty or hesitancy between the two.

Rose pressed her lips together and her gaze flicked towards James, Mickey nodded, his glare hardening as he looked at James once more before releasing Rose and stepping towards the staff room. "Alright, I'll talk to you later, babe." He nodded at James and headed into the staff room. Both James and Rose heard Martha's cries of delight before the door shut behind Mickey.

Rose turned her wide smile on James, who gave her one of his own. "What are you doing here?" He asked her as he stepped around the counter. She met him a few steps away and his arms easily wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her in a loose and friendly hug. Her arms wrapped around his waist as she returned the quick but comfortable embrace.

She stepped away from him, flitting out of his grasp, a flirtatious smile on her lips and mischief dancing in her eyes. "I'm getting a coffee," she informed him.

His smiled affectionately at her carefree and flirtatious nature, having missed it desperately while work had stressed her out. He returned to his position behind the counter, leaning onto his forearms as he watched her, "I'm dreadfully sorry for the delay in taking your order, miss," he said with mock seriousness.

She sighed dramatically. "I suppose that's alright."

He fought the fond smile that played at the corners of his lips. "What can I get you today?"

She made quite the show of deliberating, pressing her index finger against pursed lips as she looked at the menu. "I think," she said slowly, biting the edge of her lip and bringing her gaze down to his, a slow smile curling her lips pleasantly, "I'll have whatever the expert recommends," she finished, the tip of her tongue poking out from under her canine.

He nodded seriously and got to work, mixing a sweet concoction of caramel and caffeine that he was certain she would enjoy. Donna entered the shop as he did so, and if she noticed the change between Rose and James (which she undoubtedly did – Donna noticed everything) she said nothing, smiling and nodding at both of them in greeting and raising her eyebrows suggestively at James, who fought the flush he could feel warming his cheeks. Donna slipped quickly into the staff room to take off her jacket and put on her apron, and James returned his attention to the espresso machine.

He finished the drink with a flourish and stepped back out from behind the counter just as Donna went to her place at the cash register to hand her the drink with a slight bow, making her laugh. "Your drink, miss," he said as he passed it to her. "On the house, naturally, for your wait."

She took the cup with a wide smile, taking a scoop of whipped cream on her index finger and brought it to her mouth, her mischievous eyes not leaving his for a second. His eyes darkened slightly when she sucked the whipped cream off her finger and he stepped in quickly, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips, feeling her smile as he did so.

"I'm done my shift," he told her when he pulled away, unable to keep the smile from his face.

She smiled widely at him. "I know," she informed him cheekily.

"Lunch?" He offered, unsure if she had time.

"Love to," she told him happily.

"Great," he leaned in and pressed another chaste kiss to her lips, revelling in the fact that he _could_ do that now, "two seconds," he told her, seeing her nod before he quickly slipped into the staff room, taking off his apron quickly and grabbing his coat, not noticing Martha and Mickey watching him with interest from the table.

He was back in the lobby of the shop a few seconds later, a wide grin on his face and his coat resting comfortably on his shoulders. He offered his hand to Rose, who smiled happily at him before taking it and letting him lead her out of the shop. He moved to walk down the main street, but she shook her head and led him toward a luxurious looking Mercedes. James raised his eyebrows at Rose, who flushed slightly. "Birthday present," she muttered as she unlocked the doors and slipped into the driver's seat.

He watched her carefully as Rose fiddled with the radio, trying to find music she liked. Finally she groaned and hit the power button, turning it off, apparently dissatisfied with the choices. She turned to smile at James, who was watching her intently. "Want to go to yours?" She suggested.

His eyebrows rose in surprise. "You have time?" He asked. Her usual lunch-time visits at the shop were no more than twenty minutes.

Her smile widened and her eyes twinkled with mischief. "I have all day," she quipped cheerfully, making sure there were no oncoming cars before pulling out into traffic and driving the short distance to his flat.

"All day?" He repeated blankly, frowning at her. She grinned widely at him, and he realized what she meant, knowing that surprise coloured his features for a moment before he grinned exuberantly at her. "You got him?" She bit her lip and nodded, still smiling widely. James laughed joyfully and placed his hand on her thigh and squeezed gently, grinning happily. "You got him!" He whooped.

"We got him," she breathed, the smile still on her face. He loved that she seemed unable to frown, caught up in the fantastic moment. A weight was gone from her shoulders, her eyes shone brightly, and he recognized the Rose he'd met before her problems at work – the carefree, mischievous girl who couldn't keep a smile from her lips. He understood now why Rose had looked so different when she'd entered the shop – it wasn't just her restful day and night spent with him (although he was hopeful that they had played at least a small part in her giddiness), but it was that the problem was well and truly _solved_ , and Rose's guilt was eased significantly now that she knew that her work was no longer in danger.

"So what are you going to do now?" James asked, looking at her smiling face and grinning back, her own happiness spreading to him.

She shot him a sideways glance, a twinkle in her eye. "I do believe I told you we'd spend the day together, when this was done," she reminded him cheekily.

"In fact you did," James replied, amused by her antics. "I get you for the rest of the day, then?" He confirmed hopefully, crossing his fingers and praying that Jack was either at work or at Ianto's.

"You get me," Rose winked at him, and he couldn't help but be giddy at the lack of a time constraint on the statement.

* * *

"Tea?" James offered automatically as they entered his flat, shrugging off their jackets and chucking off their shoes.

"No, ta," Rose replied, holding up her half-full cardboard cup and winking at him.

He swiped it from her hands, ignoring her indignant _oi_ and took a sip before handing it back to her, smacking his lips dramatically and running his tongue over them to catch any lingering sweetness, noticing how Rose's eyes flicked to his lips and darkened slightly. He grinned cockily at her and she shook her head, grinning affectionately. She walked past him, bumping her hip against his as she moved to the couch, where she sat heavily whilst holding her cup steady, not spilling a drop of the coffee.

He leaned over the back of the couch and pressed a light kiss to the top of her head, and she looked up at him, a wide smile on her face, and tilted her head further back to capture his lips in a kiss before relaxing against the couch. "So what do you want to do today?" She asked lightly, tracking him with her eyes as he made his way around the sofa and sat next to her, his arm resting across her shoulders.

He blinked and looked at her, a frown forming on his face. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I wasn't expecting you today."

She grinned, her tongue poking out from under her canine. "What were you planning to do?" She asked.

He ran his hand through his dishevelled hair. "I didn't have any plans," he replied sheepishly.

She pressed her lips together and her eyebrows pulled together into a light frown, and he leaned forward and kissed the creased skin. She giggled slightly under his touch and he grinned, pulling away from her forehead to kiss her mouth again, tasting the coffee he'd made her on lips. He lifted his hand and gently ran his fingers along her jaw, cupping her cheek. "I'm so happy you're feeling better." He told her honestly, unable to truly express his relief.

She smiled affectionately. "Me too," she told him. With her free hand she covered the hand that was cupping her cheek. "Thank you for being there for me, James," she said quietly, meeting his eyes with her warm hazel gaze that shone with honesty and gratefulness. She leaned forward and gently pressed her lips to his.

James smiled fondly at her and pulled away, shaking his head. "Wow, that was heavy," he sighed, and Rose chuckled warmly. "So what do you want to do?"

She bit her lip to hold back a grin. "Honestly?"

"Honestly."

"I want to order in and watch the fourth _Harry Potter_ ," she told him, unable to hold back her smile.

He laughed loudly, noticing how he, too, felt lighter now that Rose wasn't so stressed. "Okay," he chuckled, leaving his spot on the couch despite Rose's protests and heading into the kitchen to grab a large collection of restaurant menus. "What do you want to eat?"

"Oh, no!" Rose snapped playfully, pointing threateningly at him from over the backrest of the couch. "I picked last time! You're picking this time."

"But, _Rooooooose_ ," James whined, pouting dramatically when Rose nearly spat out the sip of coffee she'd just taken, her shoulders shaking with repressed laughter.

"No buts!" She laughed, still pointing at him. "Choose something, Noble!"

He carefully leafed through the menus, taking painstaking care to read through each restaurant's options, and Rose rolled her eyes, moving from the couch to pluck the fourth _Harry Potter_ from the overstuffed DVD shelf next to the telly. James finally chose Thai food and looked to Rose for approval, who gave him a quick thumbs up while fiddling with the controls of the telly to get the movie menu to pop up on the screen. The familiar haunting music filled the room when she finally succeeded, and the pride on her face made him laugh.

James quickly ordered a variety of food from the Thai restaurant, unsure of what Rose would like but knowing she'd never turned down anything he'd offered her, and returned to his position, where Rose was patiently waiting. When he was settled comfortably on the couch, an arm resting casually around her shoulders, she shot him a questioning glance, and he nodded. With a pleased smile Rose lifted the remote and hit the _play_ button, and the menu screen morphed into the opening scene.

Rose shifted and rested her head against James's shoulder, sighing contently. Then, rather suddenly, she lifted it, managing to head-butt him in the process. "Oh, my god, James, I'm so sorry!" She breathed, though it was obvious she was struggling to hold back laughter as she bit down on her lips and her face contorted.

James shot her a mock glare, rubbing his jaw with his free hand. "Jesus, Rose," he laughed, "what was so important you couldn't move at a human speed?"

Rose laughed aloud, apologizing profusely once more. "I'm _so_ sorry, James," she chuckled, "I just remembered that this is the movie with the guy that looks like you. David whatever."

He looked at her in disbelief. "You head-butted me for _that_?" He whined.

Her face contorted again. "Sorry," she repeated, not sounding even the slightest bit apologetic.

He sighed loudly. "The things I put up with…"

She laughed at that, shaking her head, then reached over to hold his head in place as she gently kissed the spot the top of her head had connected with. "Better?" She asked, a teasing twinkle in her eye.

"I think you got me here, too," James pointed to his cheekbone. Rose grinned and pressed her lips to his cheek, then pulled away and looked at him with amusement on her face, obviously wondering if he'd point to anywhere else. He did, pointing to his nose next. She laughed outright but kissed it anyway. After he pointed to his lips she wasted no time locking their lips together, gently running her tongue over his bottom lip. He opened his mouth and their tongues touched, and she playfully ran the tip of hers along the roof of his mouth.

James thought he might melt.

Far from a passive participant, he flicked her tongue with his, and he _felt_ her amusement and pleasure, felt the smile that formed under the kiss, felt the teasing tug of her teeth on his bottom lip. He felt her pulse stutter at his answering growl, and he when she pulled away to catch her breath he shifted so he was on top of her, pinning her under him.

"You two seriously need to make use of the bedroom," Jack said casually as he closed the door behind him, slipping off his jacket and grabbing a banana from the kitchen. He crossed his arms as he leaned on the counter, a smirk on his face.

Rose's face flushed bright pink and James scrambled off her, glaring at his flatmate over the back of the couch. Jack grinned back, completely unbothered.

 **Dammit Jack!**

 **Please remember to review and tell me what you thought! We're nearing the end of this story.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Still alive and writing, promise! These chapters just really don't want to get written - they're being very uncooperative.**

"You're imagining things, you are," James said casually as he slurped the rice noodles, tugging them along somewhat awkwardly with his chopsticks.

"I am not," Rose replied indignantly. She opted to twirl the noodles from her own carton around her chopsticks, taking a rather large bite that took her far too long to chew and swallow before she spoke again. "That bloke could be your twin!"

He offered her a dopey smile. "You saying I'm fit enough to be a movie star, Rose Tyler?" He asked cheekily, ducking and laughing when she flicked a piece of tofu at him.

"Don't get too cocky, McCrimmon," she teased, a smile on her face as she shook her head.

"Aw, but you make it so easy," James quipped, leaning over to press a kiss to her nose.

She chuckled, liking the comfort and ease between them. "I'll just have to be more careful about that then," she winked at him, grinning when his smile widened.

Jack entered the room then, not bothering to close his bedroom door behind him. He'd changed his clothes, having spent the night and morning at Ianto's, and was grabbing a quick bite to eat before heading back over there, not bothering the fact that he was trying to give Rose and James some space.

"What are you two lovebirds up to this evening?" He asked as he headed into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water.

"No plans yet," Rose replied easily, smiling at him briefly before turning her attention back to a piece of chicken she was having trouble picking up with her chopsticks. James, ever the overgrown child, reached over and snatched the morsel, popping it into his mouth and ignoring Rose's affronted look.

"Hmm," Jack hums, a disbelieving tone in his voice that had Rose looking at him curiously, wondering what _Jack_ , king of the land-with-no-boundaries, isn't saying. He winked salaciously at her, and Rose rolled her eyes.

"You going back to Ianto's?" She asked him casually.

Jack's face broke out into his trademark grin. "Cheeking to see if you've got the place to yourselves tonight, Rose?" He asked her cheekily, bobbing his eyebrows up and down at her.

"Just answer the question, you bleedin' lothario," Rose drawls, sounding so much like her mother that Jack choked on his sip of water, catching his breath before bursting out into laughter. After a few moments, Rose joined in as well.

James looked between the two of them and wondered if it would always be like this. Obviously, Rose and Jack were very friendly – they'd known each other years, seen each other almost every day, worked together. To him, their relationship seemed almost like that of family; like they had a deep bond connecting them and would do anything for each other, regardless of the cost.

And he didn't begrudge them that. Mostly, anyway. But he wondered if he would always be the one on the outside, looking in.

But then Rose shot him a glance, and her honey-golden eyes sparkled with something just for him, and his nervous thoughts ceased. His bond with Rose was strong – stronger than any relationship he'd ever been in before, and they'd known each other two weeks. He was hopeful that whatever they had would continue to grow over time, because whatever this was, with Rose, this was special.

And there was no way he was letting go.

In the end Jack did end up leaving – though it wasn't to go to Ianto's, it was to go to Torchwood. Something about not having been to work all day and wanting to check something. James didn't push for answers. He knew he wouldn't get them.

James wondered aloud if he'd been able to get into the building at all. It was somewhat late, after all. Only 8PM, but definitely later than your average work day.

Rose and Jack had exchanged a look before Jack casually told him that senior staff members had access to the building 24/7. Rose had laughed then, mumbling about saving the world instead of getting her beauty rest, and James had laughed with her, missing the nervous glint that passed by her expression.

* * *

Rose was unnerved.

Really, really unnerved.

This was why she didn't date.

The night had gone well.

Really well.

She and James had ordered take-away, they'd watched a film and cracked jokes with his flatmate. They'd cuddled and kissed and he'd continued to steal food from her carton, regardless of her exasperated expression.

Now James slept peacefully in his bed. He'd fallen asleep almost as soon as his head had touched the pillow, and Rose had waited a few moments before slipping out of the room. Even if she wasn't sleeping, she was comfortable and safe in his arms, with him pressed against her back.

But she was restless. It had been weeks since she'd taken a day off work, and to know that Jack was at Torchwood whilst she was here resting was…odd. She tried to push the discomfort aside, to relax, to enjoy her evening in James's company.

But something was wrong. And it was even more wrong that she not be in the middle of whatever was happening.

* * *

"That can't be right," Jack muttered as he looked at his computer, frowning at what he saw. Just as he was about to phone up Torchwood Three, his mobile rang. He quickly checked the caller ID before hitting the green button and grinning as though the person on the other end could see his flirtatious expression. "Gwen Cooper, always a pleasure," he purred.

" _For God's sake, not now, Jack!"_ Gwen snapped, but he was unperturbed – he could hear the smile in her voice. _"Are you at the tower?"_

"Yeah," He muttered, looking at the screen again. "Gwen, what's going on with these readings? I've never seen the rift this erratic."

Gwen sighed. "I've no idea. I've got someone here 24/7 now, keeping an eye on it. More and more weevils are coming through, Jack. We're doing our best, but…"

"We should expect some our way," Jack finished grimly, shuddering slightly. "Understood. Keep an eye out and keep us in the loop. Rose isn't going to be happy when she hears about the excess weevil population."

Gwen snorted. "Maybe you've got to worry about Captain Tyler, but I've got the direction hounding me for information. You've got the better end of the deal, I think."

Jack scoffed. "Just goes show you've never worked extensively with Rose," he muttered. "She's the director squared. It's terrifying."

"Huh," He could practically see Gwen's shrug. "Good luck, then. We'll be in touch regularly."

Jack smiled, though it was much tenser than before. "Thanks, Gwen." He hung up and leaned back in his office chair, running his hands through his hair. Rose was _not_ going to be happy. With a sigh, he opened his contacts and hovered over her name. His eyes flicked up to the clock – past midnight. He wavered. He was willing to bet that she was still at his flat, probably cuddled up with James, fast asleep. He shouldn't call. She'd see the results in the morning.

She'd hate him if he didn't call.

With a sigh, he pressed the button and brought the device to his ear. To his surprise, she answered immediately. Her voice, though hushed, carried no traces of fatigue. "Jack?"

"Rose. We've got some weird rift activity happening. I haven't seen it this bad since I started. It's completely erratic, and Gwen says we've got more and more weevils coming through. She said we should probably be expecting some in our area, because they're having trouble keeping everything under wraps over there." He explained swiftly, resisting to urge to tease his long-time friend.

"Shit," Rose breathed, and he could imagine how she looked, standing in his kitchen wearing James's clothes, her hand tangled in her bedhead and her eyes closed as she tried to think. "What if we send Mickey up there? Mickey and Tosh, or maybe Owen. They could probably use some back up."

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "I don't know, Rose. If they've got increased transport through the rift, I'm not really sure sending members of our team headfirst into the unknown is the best way to go. Especially if we're going to be expecting the damn things on our turf." He told her honestly.

"You're right. Of course you're right." Rose sighed. "Shit, shit, _shit_." She hissed out, annoyed. "We were done with the high stress, Jack," he imagined her lower lip jutting out into an irritated yet completely adorable pout. "We were going to take it easy for a few days."

"When have you ever gotten a break, realistically?" Jack chuckled. She sighed loudly into the receiver, and Jack could sense her annoyance. "You're going to come in, aren't you?" He asked quietly, knowing he was probably ruining her evening but that Rose would always put work first.

She half-groaned, half-growled. "Of course I'm coming in," she finally muttered, and he could hear her shuffling around the flat. "At least I have my car here this time. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

* * *

Ringing roused him from the first good night of sleep he'd had in a while. "Hello?" he answered the mobile gruffly, squinting at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

 _12:17_ AM

"Torchwood ASAP." His commanding officer's voice sounded.

He groaned. "Are you bloody kidding, Rose?"

Her voice softened. "I know, I'm sorry. But there's some weird activity going on at Three and we've gotta go through some emergency prep. Rift activity is higher than we've ever seen it. I need you here, Micks."

He groaned again. "I'm coming," he told her grumpily, hanging up and shoving the blankets off, wincing at the loss of warmth.

Martha shifted beside him, her eyes slowly blinking open. "Where are you going?"

"Work," he grunted.

Worry clouded Martha's gaze. Being called into Torchwood in the middle of the night didn't bode well. "Stay safe," she said quietly.

* * *

James woke up slowly, his eyes adjusting to the dim room, and turned in his bed to find himself alone. He frowned and sat up. Rose's mobile, which he was fairly certain she'd left on the bedside table, was gone. He threw off the blankets and exited his room to find himself in an empty flat. Confused he peeked in Jack's room to see if his flatmate was around.

No sign of him.

He went to the kitchen and lightly touched the kettle with the tips of his fingers. The metal was cold – not even a little warm. Rose, ever the night owl, would have made tea before leaving. If she'd gone to work, it would still be warm – it was only just past 8AM. He ran his hand through his hair and turned to spot a piece of paper on the table. He quickly snatched it up.

 _James_

 _Had to step out. Work emergency._

 _Sorry_

 _Rose xxx_

He tucked the note into his pocket, confused, and went back into his bedroom to grab his mobile. He picked it up, scrolled through his contacts, and quickly pressed the call button.

" _Hello?"_

"Rose, where are you?" He tried not to sound too hurt that she'd swanned off.

There was a beat of silence on the other end before she answered. _"You didn't see my note?"_

"No, I did." He said quickly. "But I thought you had the day off."

" _James, I'm so sorry. I did have the day, but there was an emergency_."

He pressed his lips together, trying to contain his irritation. It wasn't her fault, of course. She couldn't help it if there were problems at work. He frowned as he noticed a familiar background humming. "Are you in a car?"

" _Yeah."_

"Where are you going?" He hadn't been aware that her job sometimes required her to leave her Torchwood office.

There was another pause on the other end, and he thought he heard her shift. He wondered if his simple question made her uncomfortable _. "Cardiff. There are some issues going on at the Torchwood base over there and they've asked for some…reinforcements."_

He sighed, feeling like an idiot. "Oh. Are you going to be back tonight?"

" _I'm not sure. The information they've sent us looks bad. We might be up here a few days."_

He sighed again. She'd just finished her extended stay at work – surely this wasn't a regular occurrence? "Are you sure you're up to that?" He asked her.

There was a pause on the other end, and James wondered if he'd insulted her by insinuating that she might be tired. _"It's my job, James."_ She said simply, her voice hardening. _"Sorry, James. We're just pulling up to the lot – "_

"We?" James interrupted, confused.

" _My team and me,"_ she answered, sounding somewhat amused, _"you didn't think I'd count as reinforcements if it was just me, did you?"_

Through the phone, he heard Jack's boisterous laughter. _"You probably would be enough to take down the city, boss_."

" _Shut up, Jack,"_ Rose said, laughing. _"Anyway, James, we're at work now, so I'll talk to you later, okay?"_

"Okay," James replied, feeling like a petulant child. He hung up the phone and looked around the flat, pursing his lips. Should he try to go back to sleep? He didn't have to be at work for another few hours…no, he was feeling completely awake at this point. Sleep would not come. With a heavy sigh, he moved around his kitchen, grabbing bread and sticking two slices in his (slightly modified) toaster before filling the kettle to make himself a cuppa.

* * *

The day had dragged on. Martha had been irritable, though James wasn't sure why, the shop had been slow, with heavy rain driving away even the regulars. He had lost count of the amount of take-away paper bags he'd stuffed with napkins, how many times he'd cleaned on the already-clean tables. He was just about ready to pull his hair out by the end of the day, and only didn't because he was rather fond of his hair.

And he was pretty sure Rose was as well.

Now he was sitting in his flat, the news playing on the telly in the background. The newscaster droned wearily on about the happenings of the day. He fixed himself a cuppa, needing the warmth of the comforting drink against his cold hands. The rain continued to pound heavily down, forcing him to turn the volume up louder than he usual would.

" _And now we go to Tricia Walker in Cardiff. Tricia?"_

James's ears perked up at the mention of Cardiff.

" _Thanks, Patty. We're here in Cardiff, where earlier this morning, witnesses say around 9:30AM, a gunfight broke out. It's still unclear which parties were involved, but witnesses confirm seeing an unmarked black SUV parked in an alley off Bay Avenue, where later a body was found. Police have yet to release pictures of the body, but witnesses say it was beyond recognition. Apart from the victim found in the alley, no other casualties have been brought to our attention. "_

James watched with rapt attention, his heart pounding heavily in his chest as his fingers unconsciously reached for his cellphone, worry for Rose at the forefront of his mind. Quickly he punched in his code and immediately scrolled through his contacts to find Rose. He pressed the call button and brought the device to his ear, pacing around the small flat. "Pick up, pick up, pick up," he muttered.

" _Hello?"_

"Rose! Thank God you're okay." James sighed heavily, his heart finally calming as he sat on the couch, rubbing his temple with his fingertips.

" _James? Is something wrong?"_

How could she ask him that? "There was a shooting. In Cardiff." He explained tensely.

" _Was there?"_ Her voice was too calm. _"We haven't been watching the news. We've been working pretty much since we got here."_

"Rose, I –"

" _I'm sorry, James, I really am, but I don't have time to talk,"_ Rose told him, her voice forcibly calm once again.

"You'll call me if you have a free minute?" James asked, and he hated that he felt like a child begging.

There was a pause on the other end, and when Rose spoke again, her voice was genuinely warm and apologetic. _"I promise, James."_

" _We're in a helicopter above Cardiff, where the army has issued an evacuation of the city. No word yet on how far spread the issue has spread, but we've been assured that the appropriate military team has been put on the case…stay turned for traffic details…"_

James resisted the urge to throw his mobile against the wall. This was the fourth time he'd tried to call Rose in the last hour, and he had yet to hear back. He had no idea if she'd safely made it out of Cardiff.

* * *

 _To: Rose Tyler_

 _From: James McCrimmon_

 _Rose pls call or text to let me know ur ok_

* * *

 _To: Rose Tyler_

 _From: James McCrimmon_

 _R U ok?_

* * *

 _To: Rose Tyler_

 _From: James McCrimmon_

 _Rose, im worried, pls call to let me know ur ok!_

* * *

 _To: Rose Tyler_

 _From: James McCrimmon_

 _Rose! I need to know ur ok!_

* * *

 _To: Jack Harkness_

 _From: James McCrimmon_

 _Jack, do U know where Rose is?_

* * *

 _To: Jack Harkness_

 _From: James McCrimmon_

 _Have u heard from Rose? RU with her?_

* * *

 _To: Jack Harkness_

 _From: James McCrimmon_

 _R U and Rose safe?_

* * *

"Shit, boss," Jack breathed as they came around the corner, spotting the large gathering of Weevils.

"I know," Rose replied, her voice hard. They'd never seen this many weevils on the loose before.

" _Rift activity is calming down. We might be near the end."_ Tosh's voice sounded through her Bluetooth.

Rose swallowed heavily. "Finally," she muttered. It would be a hell of a whole lot easier to contain the weevils that were rampaging through Cardiff when there weren't more coming through the rift by the hour. As it was, they still had to deal with the approximate hundreds of weevils that were on the loose. Thank god the city had been evacuated. "Let's get ready to move." Rose ordered her team and the rest of the Torchwood agents that had met up in Cardiff to deal with the situation. "Guns at the ready. Remember, as much as I hate this, weevils don't operate as a team. There's no way of dealing with this diplomatically, and we sure as hell don't have enough cells for all of them." She pressed her lips together uncomfortably before speaking again, her tone regretful and quiet. "Shoot to kill. Let's move."

* * *

Still nothing from Rose.

" _Three days after the evacuation, Cardiff has officially been declared safe again, and the roads are full of people heading back home. While the military have informed us that there will be extra personnel in the area until further notice, they've assured us that the situation has been dealt with. A memorial for the casualties will be held…"_

James turned off his telly with more force necessary, running his hand through his messy hair and tugging on it painfully. Days. He hadn't heard from Rose or Jack in _days_. He had no idea if they were safe or if he'd be at that memorial because he'd lost his girlfriend and his best friend to some kind of genetic experiment.

He made his way to work, irritated and dejected, his hands tucked in the pocket of his long coat as he walked. He was surprised to see Martha locking the door, her expression unreadable.

"Martha?" He asked as he made his way over to her. "What's going on?"

She didn't answer his question. "Come with me," She ordered, leaving now room to argue. He followed her to her small car, taking a seat in the passenger's side.

"Where are we going?" James asked, confused.

Martha was quiet for several moments before she finally answered. "Cardiff." She said quietly.

James felt an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. His heart began to pound heavily. Cardiff. Where for days, hundreds of some sort of violent genetic experiment had been on the loose. Where Rose, who hadn't answered her phone in four days, had been going. He felt his hands ball into tight fists.

Neither he nor Martha spoke for the two-and-a-half-hour drive.

 **Kindly remember to review.**


	11. Chapter 11

The drive to Cardiff was tense and silent. James watched Martha carefully out of the corner of his eye, taking in her tense posture and bleak expression. She broke every speeding law he knew, but he said nothing.

He wasn't sure what there was for Martha in Cardiff – she was friends with Jack and with Rose, but certainly not enough to warrant her current behaviour…

Thinking of Rose made his heart pound heavily in his chest and his breath catch in his lungs. He still hadn't heard from her since before the evacuation of Cardiff, though he'd been clutching his mobile phone so tightly he'd feel any movement whatsoever. He'd wondered, on more than one occasion, if this was Rose's subtle way of telling him she wasn't interested in seeing him again.

But then, why would she spend the afternoon with him? Why would she continue to seek him out at his work?

And where on earth was Martha taking him?

Lost in his own thoughts, it caught him by surprise when Martha pulled to a stop in front of what looked like a run-down tourism office. He shot her a confused look, but she was already leaving the car, leaving him no option but to follow. He scrambled out of his seat and followed her as she determinedly marched to an old-looking door and swung it open. James jogged to catch up with her, grabbing the edge of the door before it latched shut.

He found himself in a small, old looking tourism office, furnished with a desk littered with papers, pamphlets and an outdated computer. The wooden walls seemed aged and made the room feel even smaller. The only tidy part of the room was the bulletin board, on which the papers were meticulously lined up, made easy to read at a glance.

A young man came out from under a doorway hidden by hanging beads, marked _Staff Only_. He was dressed smartly in a fitted suit, a cuppa in his hands. When he saw Martha, he quickly placed the mug on the desk and came around it to wrap her up in a hug.

"Ianto," Martha greeted as she returned the embrace.

Ah, so this was Jack's mystery man.

"Martha," Ianto pulled away and nodded at her, a tense expression on his face that mirrored Martha's. "You made good time."

Martha scoffed drily, her lips tugging into a bitter smile. "I'm lucky I didn't get pulled over. How is he?"

Ianto placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He's fine. A little worse for wear, and you can imagine that the boss tore him a new one for being reckless, but he's fine, awake. We told him you were coming."

Martha snorted. "She's one to talk. _Reckless_."

Ianto laughed quietly and turned to James, shooting a questioning look at Martha. "Who's this, then?"

"Oh, sorry," Martha pulled away. "Ianto Jones, this is James McCrimmon. James, Ianto."

Ianto's eyes lit with interest and he offered James a calloused hand. The handshake was brief and Ianto turned his attention back to Martha. "You shouldn't have brought him, Martha," he scolded.

"Please," Martha scoffed, "he's been Jack's flatmate for years. He should already know all of this. I don't know how Jack's managed to keep it a secret for so long." _What on earth were they talking about_?

"The boss won't be happy."

Jack often called Rose _'boss'_. Were they talking about her? Why wouldn't she be happy to see him?

"She can suck it up," Martha sniffed. "We all know she's serious about him. Besides, he won't tell." Was she talking about Rose? Rose was serious about him? "She could use some support anyway. Don't suppose she's called her parents."

Ianto smiled slightly and shook his head. "She says she 'doesn't want to bring Jackie's wrath upon us'. Her words exactly."

Martha snorted again. "Sounds like her. Can't blame her, though. Jackie can be a bit much."

"A bit," Ianto scoffed.

"Sorry to interrupt," James jumped in, not sorry in the slightest. "But what's going on here?"

Martha looked to Ianto, who nodded at her before moving back behind the desk and pressing a hidden blue button. "I'll bring some tea down later," he told them.

James watched in disbelief a section of the wall hissed and mechanically opened, revealing a long hallway of cement flooring and drab, grey brick walls. It was roomier than he expected, with arched supports every few meters. He was thankful for the fluorescent lights hung on the walls at regular intervals, because the cavernous hallway was dark, with no windows to offer any light. Martha led him briskly through the corridor, obviously not wasting any time. A door slid opened and Martha stepped confidently into the room, James a few seconds behind. He didn't have time to ask where they were going before the door slid shut and a twisting sensation in his stomach told him they were moving downwards.

It was only a few seconds later that the elevator stopped and the door hissed open once more. Martha and James found themselves faced with a large wall, a massive gear-like door in front of them. It slowly rolled out of the way to reveal a large room.

Martha, once again, moved with complete ease, James a few steps behind, looking around in wonder. Directly in front of him, on a sort of large platform, there were several computers, all in what looked to be separate work stations. As soon as Martha led him forward a few feet, the gear rolled back into place and a metal gate swung shut, securing tightly into place.

"Martha," James said nervously, "what is this?"

Stairs to her left lead to a sort of deck-like-platform, though he couldn't see what might be up there. There was another work station to his right, though this one looked more like that of a mechanic, with metal tools and heavy gloves rather than high-tech computers that made the one in the tourist office look ancient.

All in all, the room was…dreary. It looked every bit the hidden, underground hub.

"Martha," James snapped, starting to get impatient and distinctly uncomfortable. "Martha, what is this place?"

Martha came to a stop and turned to face him. "This is Torchwood, James," she said quietly.

"Torchwood?" James repeated, looking around in wonder. "Torchwood is in London."

She shook her head. "Torchwood One operates out of London. This is Torchwood Three. Cardiff. Welcome." She turned back around and marched determinedly through the room, heading over to a sectioned off portion of the room. He followed her to a sterile, hospital-like portion of the room, where Mickey Smith was sitting on what looked like an operating table, having a massive cut in his arm stitched up by a man in a doctor's lab coat. He was covered in cuts and bruises.

"Mickey!" Martha yelled, jogging over to him.

"Hey, babe," Mickey smiled at her, an exhausted look on his face. Martha made her way to his side and kissed his temple.

"Blimey, you took a beating," Martha worried, looking him up and down, assessing the damage.

"Don't you start," Mickey smiled tiredly, "the boss already ripped into me."

"I bet she did! Where is she anyway?"

"James!"

James whirled around, coming face-to-face with a confused-looking Jack. "What are you doing here?" Jack asked, clapping James's shoulder with a strange look on his face.

"Martha brought me," James said, feeling just as confused as his flatmate.

"Did she?" Jack shot Martha a glare.

"Come off it, Jack," Martha retorted, glaring at Jack in return. "He's been one of us long enough. He deserves to know."

"Know what?" James snapped angrily, tired of feeling left out. "What the hell is going on?"

Jack sighed, shaking his head. "Jesus, Martha, you could have called. Given us some warning," he growled, annoyed. Martha just shook her head, not leaving Mickey's side for an instant. Jack wrapped his arm around James's elbow and tugged him away, leading him into a small office, tucked behind the work stations he'd seen upon entering.

"Tell me what's going on, Jack," James demanded, his heart pounding in his chest. "What the hell is this? What happened to Mickey? Where's Rose?"

Jack help up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, James," he said quietly, though he kept his head held high. "I didn't want you to find out this way."

"Find out _what_?"

"This is Torchwood," Jack gestured around him. "Well, Torchwood Three. Bit too much like a hole in the ground, if you ask me. My office in London is much nicer." He moved around the small desk that occupied the center of the room and sat down in the office chair, leaning back. "This is Gwen's office. She runs this base. Director Tyler oversees all the branches, so she answers to him."

"Rose?" James croaked.

Jack shook his head. "Pete, her father." He gave James a moment to absorb that information. "Torchwood's prime directive is to defend earth against extraterrestrial threats, or what a lot of people would call _supernatural_. That includes everything from research to actual, physical defense, which is what we've been up to lately."

James blinked. "The…genetic experiments…a genetic experiment gone wrong…?"

Again, Jack shook his head. "That's what we said, because it would be impractical to retcon the entire population of Cardiff, but that's not what happened." He met James's gaze squarely. "They were aliens."

James stopped short and regarded Jack with raised eyebrows before he let out a laugh. "Right," he chuckled. "You spent the past three days fighting off an alien invasion."

Jack shrugged. "I don't think I'd call it an _invasion_ ," he answered, pointedly ignoring James's sarcasm. "But fighting aliens, yeah."

James stopped laughing and frowned at Jack, understanding dawning on him. "You're serious," he said slowly. "You're telling me you, Rose, and Mickey have spent the last few days fighting off a horde of aliens."

Jack jerked his head in a quick nod. "Yeah."

"And you're serious."

"Yeah."

"Blimey."

Jack laughed. "Yeah," he said again.

James shook his head, confused, and then looked around the hub again, noticing the distinctive lack of a certain blonde woman. "Where's Rose?"

Jack sighed and ran his hands over his face. "Sleeping, finally," he answered. "God, that woman. I don't know how you put up with her," he grinned over at James. "She insists on being in the thick of the fighting, refuses medical care –"

"Medical care? James interrupted, his heart squeezing at the thought of seeing her beat up, like Mickey had been.

Jack grimaced. "Yeah. She took the worst of it. She would have been worse off if it weren't for Mickey, but she still wasn't too happy with him. She worries."

" _She_ worries?" James snapped. " _I_ was worried sick! Why didn't you call me? I must have texted you a thousand times!"

Jack took a deep breath and shook his head. "I'm sorry, James, but you don't actually have clearance to know all this," he admitted. "Martha shouldn't have brought you." He saw James open his mouth to interrupt again and held up his hand, "it's fine. You're here now, nothing to be done about it. I doubt Rose will let us retcon you." He winked.

James sighed. "What does Rose have to do with all this, anyway?" He asked Jack. His friend must have heard the pleading note in James's tone.

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, James. I really am, but I won't tell you Rose's story. That's hers to tell. I can tell you that when I joined Torchwood, four years ago, Rose already held a senior rank."

"She was your training officer," James remembered.

Jack nodded. "That's right."

James sat heavily in one of the chairs that faced the desk. "Blimey," he muttered.

"Yeah," Jack chuckled.

"I thought Mickey was a mechanic," James admitted.

Jack shrugged. "He was before he joined up. Now he tells people that because he can pass off as a mechanic – he's got the skills and the knowledge – and because staff are still top secret. Which is why I couldn't tell you anything."

"So these aliens," James said tentatively, and Jack raised his eyebrows, encouraging him to continue, "what were they."

Jack smiled briefly before his expression became grim. "They're called Weevils. Or, rather, we call them that. They're not exactly sentient, so they can't tell us if they actually have a name. They're creatures of the rift."

"The rift?" James interjected, putting his disbelief aside so that he could listen to what Jack had to say.

Jack nodded and rolled his chair over to his computer, working away quickly on the keyboard for a few minutes before gesturing to James to join him. Jack stood up from his seat and moved around the desk, standing behind Jack and peering over his shoulder at the image Jack had put on the monitor. "Is that a map of Cardiff?" he asked, frowning at the image. He recognized Cardiff on the map, but the colouring was off, centered around a long, white line that cut its way across the map, bleeding into the rest of the map. It didn't seem to show topography or anything else he recognized.

"Yeah," Jack lifted a finger and traced the white line. "This is the rift. It's a tear in time and space. It gives off energy signals that we can track but not use."

James frowned. "What do you mean, we can't use?"

Jack pressed his lips together as he thought of a way to explain that would make sense. "We just don't have anyway of using it," he reworded. "It'd be like trying to use diesel in a petrol engine. The rift itself is like an earthquake fault, but between dimensions."

"Okay," James returned to his seat, feeling a heading coming on. "So what does this rift have to do with anything?"

Jack leaned back in his seat. "Torchwood Three's main job is to monitor the rift. They keep tabs on how much energy it's outputting as well as collect and track anything that comes through."

"Comes through?"

"Yeah," Jack interlaced his fingers. "It connects dimensions. Sometimes things fall through."

"Like the Weevils." Jack had called them _rift creatures_ , James remembered.

Jack grinned and nodded. "You're quick. Like the Weevils. Usually, we track the weevils and then send them into the sewers. We've got a couple hundred living down there. Their digestive system is evolved enough that they can eat pretty much anything. Sometimes we have one or two come up to the surface, and they start attacking people. They're strong and fast, so humans tend to be easy prey." He let out a deep breath.

"So what happened?" James asked.

"The rift activity was off the charts," Jack explained. The other night, when I came into Torchwood to check up on things, Gwen called. She was worried about the rift activity – we'd never seen it that active. The original plan was to keep monitoring it and to watch for excess Weevil activity. We anticipated a few more coming through, so all Torchwood stations were put on alert."

"But that's not what happened," James guessed.

"Nope. A few hours later they were coming through the rift by the dozens. All Torchwood agents were called to Cardiff, and the city was evacuated until we could get the situation under control. I called Rose, she called Mickey. Most of the other operatives have gone home, but Mickey and Rose both needed some stitching up, so we got placed here. Mickey was allowed to call Martha because they're married, so she already knows all this."

James was silent for a few moments, trying to keep his breathing in check and his heart from pounding too fast.

 _I work for a private security company_ , Rose had told him.

She hadn't been lying, he supposed. What she did certainly did count as security, and he couldn't be surprised she hadn't said _I fight aliens_.

"Where is Rose?" He finally asked.

Jack stood from his seat and open twisted open a manhole that James had not noticed before, wrenching it up and open with considerable force. When James peered into the hole, he blinked in surprise. Down the narrow ladder was a small room, furnished with what looked like a small wardrobe and a single bed, upon which Rose Tyler was tangled in the blankets, fast asleep. James looked up at Jack, "can I…"

Jack gestured for him to go ahead, and James carefully descended into the manhole as quietly as he could so he wouldn't wake Rose. He heard the cover close above him, and the room suddenly became quite dark.

The sound must have awoken Rose, because she shuffled on the bed and her eyes blinked open slowly. She reached for her mobile and turned on the torch, jumping and yelping when she saw James's silhouette.

"Sorry! Sorry! It's me," James said quietly in what he hoped was a soothing tone. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

Rose blinked in surprise. "James?" She whispered, her voice hoarse. "What are you doing here?"

"Martha brought me," James told her, stepping forward and crouching by the head of her cot so he could meet her eyes. In the dim light from her mobile he could see the many bandages that undoubtedly covered stitches along the side of her face and a few on her neck that made him wince uncomfortably. He didn't want to think about anything attacking Rose's throat. He didn't want to think about anything attacking Rose _at all_. "Are you…" He trailed off, unsure how to ask what he wanted to know.

She sighed heavily. "I'll be alright, James," she promised. "Just took a bit of a beating."

"I can see that," James spoke around the lump in his throat. He gently reached forward and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, noticing how Rose leaned into his touch slightly. He heard her shuffle in the darkness and felt her fingers wrap around his wrist, pulling him onto the small cot. He settled carefully, not wanting to jostle her, and she settled against him, resting her head on his shoulder. He loosely wrapped his arms around her. "I was so worried, Rose," he told her, his voice coming out a strangled whisper.

Her hands formed loose fists in his shirt. "I'm so sorry, James," she murmured back. "I never wanted to you have to see this."

James closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. As frustrated and confused as he was – with Jack, with Rose, with Mickey, even with Martha – for now, he would focus on the fact that his Rose was safe in his arms, like she should be. He would deal with everything else later, when she was in better health. "Go to sleep, Rose."

Her grip on him tightened. "Stay with me?"

"I promise."

 **Not a whole lotta Rose here, but some much needed Jack/James time. Also, Mickey!**


	12. Chapter 12

**I'm still alive!**

 **This chapter is dedicated to _whotookmycheese_ , who asked if we might get some insight from Rose concerning why she took to James so easily and trusted him so quickly. **

****Side note: _James McCrimmon_ is not the name is usually use when writing the human Doctor. I usually use John Smith or John Noble, which is why I'm sure a few of you have spotted discrepancies in his name. Once the story is done, I'll go through each of the chapters to make sure I'm using the right name, but I just don't have the time right now. But, so we're all on the same page - this is not a story in which the Doctor has had to use the Chameleon Arc. This is _literally_ the Doctor as a human man. **

**Onwards!**

He was _here_.

Rose felt tears gather in her eyes and her lips pulled into a tired smile when she looked at the man sleeping next to her on the small cot. She'd missed him desperately over the past few days – they hadn't known each other long – just a little over two weeks, but going several days without speaking to him had been more of a challenge than she'd anticipated.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, she thought bitterly as she shuffled closer to him, draping one heavily bandaged arm across his torso. In his sleep, his arms snaked around her waist and her pulled her tight against him, making her smile again. She'd noticed he was a very cuddly sleeper, which was exactly what she'd expected from him but still made her lips tug upwards.

She wondered if he'd missed her as much she'd missed him. She inhaled his familiar smell, basking in the familiarity of his embrace, and wondered if he could feel the strange connection she felt with him. She was relatively sure he did – he seemed to seek out her company as actively as she sought his, and the way he looked at her sometimes…he made her feel like the only person in the world.

No one had ever looked at her quite like James did.

Since her emotionally abusive and destructive relationship with Jimmy Stone, Rose had essentially given up on relationships, though she'd never said as much. She'd buried herself in her work, which she loved, and climbed the ranks of Torchwood faster than anyone else, a testimony to her dedication and love for the job. At twenty-three, Rose had been the youngest captain on record, and now, at twenty-five, she took great pride in her title of Major Rose Tyler. She'd been absolutely content with her life – she had many friends at work, like Jack and Mickey – and was close with her parents, Jackie and Pete. She had a good life, a job she loved, a close-knit family…she didn't need a boyfriend.

Enter James.

Rose had never met anyone like James McCrimmon before in her life. The man seemed to take everything at a run, ready to jump into any situation, regardless of the risks or consequences. He was a man who didn't know how to tell a particularly pushy woman that he wasn't interested, who seemed to have absolutely no concept of personal space, and who was flatmates with Jack Harkness. He was a man who'd taken care of her after her disastrous week at work, making sure she slept and ate and remembered to smile and laugh. There were very few people – outside of her work – that Rose felt comfortable enough with to be herself, and somehow, after only having known him for two weeks, James had become one of those people.

She wondered what it was about him. Perhaps it was the way he read her like an open book, knowing exactly what it was she needed to hear, even she didn't know herself. Maybe it was the fact that he was so at ease with himself that there was never any hesitation – conversations with James were easy rather than calculated, they were jokes and teasing instead of the subtle manipulations and judgements she got from others when they learned her social status. It could be the fact that one their first date, they had made plans to see the universe – the Doctor and Rose Tyler (because James McCrimmon was a rubbish name and really, who would take it seriously? People would take _the Doctor_ seriously, he'd insisted).

" _Can't you just imagine it, Rose? 'Hello, I'm the Doctor!'"_

" _Doctor who?"_

" _Just the Doctor."_

"' _The Doctor'?"_

" _Hello!"_

Maybe it was the fact that he already knew Martha, Mickey, and Jack. That being around James would never mean isolating herself from her friends because they shared their friends.

Maybe it was a mix of everything.

All in all, she wasn't sure what it was about James that made her feel like she could trust him, but there wasn't a doubt in her mind anymore. This strange man had become a part of her life – one she wasn't willing to give up – and she wasn't going to question it. He'd fit into a particular slot in her life she hadn't realized was empty, and she was more than happy to have him.

Her smile faded when she thought of the secrets she'd kept from him. She wasn't sure how much Jack had told him, though she assumed it was the basic "welcome to Torchwood – we fight aliens" – because if Jack had decided to follow procedure, James would have been sent home by now, and given an ale-and-retcon concoction before being tucked soundly into bed.

Instead, James was pressed against her, his arms wrapped protectively around her, in the manhole at Torchwood: Cardiff.

If she was being honest with herself, they _should_ have sent him home. This…relationship…they had, however wonderful it felt, was too new. She'd only known him for a few weeks, and her common sense told her that she should wait until she was absolutely certain that she was going to be with someone for the rest of her life before letting them in on the government's worst kept secret – the existence of aliens.

(It absolutely did _not_ matter than she _was_ certain that James was who she planned to stick with for the rest of her life – she'd still only known him less than a month).

 _But_.

He'd been flatmates with Jack for years, and, if anything, she was impressed with her friend's ability to keep his job a secret from James, who seemed to make it his business to be nosey and involved. He was good friends with Martha – good enough that Martha had called Rose up on a Saturday morning to rescue him from the clutches of a persistent female suitor – and obviously with Mickey as well. In fact, over the past few years Rose had heard her fair share of stories about the eccentric barista – everything from strange drinks he made to the one time he'd "fixed" the cream-dispenser, only to have it tear through a four-litre bag of cream when he'd excitedly showed Martha how he'd "improved" it.

Even Mickey seemed to only have kind words for the man, which was unusual. Not that Mickey wasn't kind, but he was fiercely protective of those he loved, and very few came off well when he described them.

So it was less a situation of not having any reason to trust James, and more one of _not_ having any reason _not_ to trust him.

And now, it seemed, she had no choice but to trust him.

Tomorrow, she vowed to herself, she would tell him everything. She'd answer the unavoidable tidal wave of questions that was undoubtedly headed her way, because she could and _would_ trust him with this. With herself.

Her heart pounded heavily in fear – what if he thought she was crazy? What if he wanted nothing to do with any of this?

 _Stop_ , she told herself severely. She was being foolish. Surely if he wanted nothing to do with her he would have left rather than joined her in bed. He was willing to talk about it, that much was clear.

She hoped.

She squeezed let out a quiet groan of frustration, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck and sighing when his grip on her tightened again. She smiled tiredly – reassuring, even in his sleep. She wasn't used to such a tirade of emotions, having mastered compartmentalization at a young age. She was also very skilled at ignoring and pushing away emotions.

Or she _had_ been, before this…whatever this was.

 _Stop it_ , she thought harshly, fed up with herself. With a sharp exhale she resettled so she was comfortable and cleared her thoughts, intent on getting more sleep before Jack inevitably barged in on them (and she just _knew_ he would somehow time it at the worst possible moment. He seemed to have a knack for that).

* * *

Jack watched with his arms crossed over his chest as Owen finished up Mickey's stitches, his face unreadable. Martha hovered like the concerned wife she was, plus a bit of _how could you be so stupid_ and _if I have to drive down here one more time because you keep getting mauled by aliens_ , watching Owen work with rapt attention. She wasn't particularly fond of the snippy doctor, Jack knew, but Owen was the best and Martha knew better than to argue.

Most of the time, anyway.

He couldn't decide whether he was angry with her or grateful to her, at the moment.

On the one hand, it was a relief to finally be able to let James in on his secret job. Keeping it from him for four years had proved difficult, and while James was a kind, trustworthy man, he was also nosey and curious, and so Jack had had to be extra careful about what he took home from work.

On the other, there was a _reason_ Torchwood kept its work secret. This kind of information couldn't be given out to just anyone – as proven by Adam Mitchell, not that Jack was comparing James to the snake – and was difficult to process to say the least. Jack loved his job – he loved fighting and learning about aliens, he loved his coworkers, and he loved that everyone he worked with loved their jobs. Being a Torchwood operative was not the job for the undecided or faint of heart.

Again, he wasn't calling James any of those things.

But it was still classified information, reserved for those with the highest security clearance (all Torchwood staff – not even the prime minister had clearance for all Torchwood files), and his flatmate, however good, was not Torchwood personnel. He was certain that if the director found out about James knowing, he'd flip.

But there was no doubt in Jack's mind that having James here would be good for Rose, who was exhausted and had missed him desperately, despite it only being a brief separation. If the texts he'd sent Jack were anything to go by, he'd missed her, too, and worried. Jack sighed, sorry that they'd had to hide from him and hoping that he would be understanding when everything was out in the open.

* * *

Rose woke again four hours later – she knew it was evening only because her alarm clock marked _6:02PM_ – there were no windows in the manhole that would allow her to see outside, so she couldn't see that the sun was throwing its last rays of sunshine out before setting.

"Rose?" James spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper but still seeming loud in the small room. "You awake?"

She stretched, feeling her neck crack pleasantly and her skin pulled taught around her cuts and bruises. "Yeah," she muttered.

"You can go back to sleep, if you want," James said quietly, keeping his arms wrapped loosely around her waist.

Just as Rose opened her mouth to respond, her stomach growled loudly, indicating her hunger, and she felt her cheeks redden in embarrassment. James laughed, and pressed against him she felt the vibrations of his voice ripple through her. "Food first, then," he grinned down at her, and she nodded.

They untangled their limbs – Rose taking extra care as she moved not to jar her injuries too badly – and shuffled out of the small room. James made his way up the ladder first, throwing the manhole open and clambering out. He offered a hand to Rose as she climbed the final steps, which she took gratefully. She saw a shadow pass over his face when he saw her injuries in the light for the first time – she hadn't seen herself in a mirror yet, but she knew that there was probably more purple and blue than anything else. He locked his jaw and smiled tightly at her, and she sighed. "It's worse than it looks." She promised.

"Oh," Jack stopped in the doorway. "I didn't realize you guys had woken up."

Rose smiled tightly at him. "How's Mickey?" she asked, worry evident in her voice.

"I'm fine, boss," Mickey spoke from behind Jack.

Rose winced when she saw him. He was equally as bandaged and bruised as her, and it hurt to see her best friend so hurt because he'd been defending her. "You look like hell, Micks," she told him drily, hoping her worry wasn't written all over her face.

Mickey shrugged. "I look better than you," he smirked.

"Not possible," Rose scoffed.

The two stared at each other for a moment before wide grins spread on both their faces and they both moved forward, hugging each other tightly. "Thank you," Rose whispered into the hug.

"Any time." Mickey responded quietly. "My life would be so much easier if you stopped getting yourself into trouble, boss," he whined loudly, making Jack chuckle. Rose tensed for a moment, knowing in her heart that no matter how jokingly Mickey said it, it was incredibly true. Mickey pulled away and clapped her shoulder. "Owen wants to have another look at you," he informed her cheerfully, perhaps feeling her sudden guilt and wanting to distract her.

Rose nodded and turned to James, who was watching the exchange curiously. "I'm going to go get checked out and then you and I will talk, alright? I'm guessing you've got some questions for me," she smiled a lopsided grin. James nodded, smiling back in response, and Rose left the office, heading for the sealed-off medical area where Owen was undoubtedly impatiently waiting for her.

* * *

Owen examined Rose quickly and effectively, and Rose had a new appreciation for his quick and detached movements, already disliking being separated from James, who she assumed was with Jack. She tapped her fingers against the medical cot, earning herself a glare from the irritable doctor, which she pointedly ignored.

She was worried, there was no denying it. How would James handle her explanation? How in depth would she need to go? She didn't want to lie to him, not anymore, but if he asked about Mickey, her oldest friend in the world, should she tell him about Jimmy? Would he judge her? Would he look at her the same? She bit her lip nervously, feeling her heart speed up slightly as she let her worries run rampant.

That didn't even include the whole _I basically hunt aliens but not to kill them_ situation. She wondered how much Jack had explained while she'd been sleeping, and how much of that James actually believed. She took a deep breath to calm herself, reminding herself that while it was still early in their relationship, she didn't want to lie to James, didn't want to hurt him, didn't want to shut him out of arguably the most important part of her life.

When she returned to Gwen's office, James was sitting in one of the armchairs, a disbelieving smile on his face and shaking his head slightly as Jack talked animatedly from Gwen's desk chair.

"…I swear, six feet tall and with tusks! It turns out the white things are tusks. And I mean _tusks!_ And it's woken, and it's not happy, and we're standing there, fifteen of us, _naked_ , and I'm like 'no, no, no, it's got nothing to do with me', and then it roars, and we are running. Oh, my god, we are _running_. And Brakovitch falls, so I turn to him and I say –"

"'I knew we should have turned left!'" Mickey jumped in at the last minute.

Rose leaned against the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest and shaking her head in disbelief as the three of them laughed uproariously.

"You know, I still don't believe that story. Not for a second," Rose said as she entered the room, smiling fondly at her friends.

James jumped up from his seat, watching her with worry in his eyes. "You alright?" he checked, looking her over quickly.

"Yeah," she replied with a smile before shooting pointed looks at Jack and Mickey, who took the point and left the office, not even bothering to come up with an excuse as the door closed quietly behind them.

Rose hesitantly took James's hand and guided him back to his seat, sitting in the armchair next to him rather than the chair that Jack had been occupying behind the desk. Once they were both sitting, Rose took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her hair, grimacing at its unkept state. "I don't know where to start," she admitted quietly.

"Begin at the beginning, and go on till you come to the end: then stop," James smirked at her, using the same quote she'd used only a week ago when they'd been watching _Harry Potter_.

She smiled at the memory. "How much did Jack tell you?" She asked him, wanting to know what he knew about the Institute before she delved into her own personal history.

James shrugged. "Basically, he told me that you, Mickey and him fight aliens," he quirked an eyebrow, as though hoping that Rose would laugh and offer a more reasonable explanation.

"Wow, okay. He could have gone into a little more detail," Rose laughed uncomfortably.

James swallowed visibly. "So he was telling the truth, then? Your job is to fight aliens."

Rose shook her head. "Not always. More often than not we try to negotiate and research. A lot of species are willing to trade information. Sometimes we encounter more violent types, though."

James let out a deep breath, processing what she was saying. "So how did you…start…with Torchwood?"

"It's pretty simple, actually," she said, leaning her elbows onto her thighs and wringing her hands together, keeping her eyes pointed downwards. "My dad is the director, so I'd been hearing stories about aliens form a very young age. I quit school when I was sixteen and…moved away from my parents…for a little less than a year. When I came back, my dad offered me a job at Torchwood so long as I got my A-levels, so I worked part-time and did some classes online. Got my A-levels when I was nineteen and started working full time at Torchwood. I was one of the youngest members on staff, and it wasn't a secret that I was the director's kid, so most people assumed it was just some cozy job for the Vitex Heiress." She grimaced. "I worked hard to earn their respect as a team member, and not just because I was Pete's daughter, but I was also quite good at my job," she smiled ruefully. "Torchwood is military, so we operate using military ranks. You come in as a cadet, then go through second lieutenant, then lieutenant, then captain, then major, lieutenant colonel, colonel, brigadier, and so on. I'm a captain," she gave a mock salute, her lips quirking into a half-smile. "So is Jack. Mickey is my lieutenant. My team is called Bad Wolf. That's me, Mickey, a tech named Tosh, and a medic named Rory. We've been a team for a few years now."

James frowned, confused. "Wait, if your medic is called Rory, who's Owen?"

"He's the medic for Torchwood Three. Rory is back home. Owen was actually with us at Torchwood One when this all started, which was a pain. You have no idea how frightening it is to hear that the rift is going crazy while the medic is out of town." Rose shuddered, remembering the jolt of fear that had ripped through her when she realized that Torchwood Three didn't have a medic on staff while dozens of weevils continued to pour out of the rift.

"Why?" James asked curiously.

Rose shrugged. "He was working on some project with Rory. I don't know. I usually just let them do their own thing. Not much I can do for them."

She watched him carefully, waiting for disbelief, accusations, anger…anything, but all she got was resigned curiosity. "And Jack?"

"What about Jack?"

"You know him through Torchwood?" James confirmed, as though it were important that he sort out exactly how she knew everyone.

Rose nodded. "Yeah. I was finishing up my term as lieutenant in team Toclafane when he joined, under a nasty piece of work named Harold Saxon. Jack got put on my squad and I got put in charge of him. He did his training under me, but he didn't stay on Saxon's team – the bloke was _brutal_. Very 'shoot first and ask questions later', and I didn't blame him for switching teams as soon as he was fully trained. Most of team Toclafane was killed about a year later when a few cybermen managed to break through the void somehow." She shivered. That had been a frightening few weeks; the cybermen, while contained at Torchwood due to lockdown, had killed several of her friends. "I was the only one from Toclafane who lived, so I decided to leave the name and start up a fresh new team. We don't operate like Saxon did, not anymore. Jack is more or less part of Bad Wolf, but because he's a captain, he doesn't _technically_ work for me. I think he just likes the way I run my team."

"What's Toclafane? And cybermen?" James asked, watching her carefully.

"I don't know what Toclafane is. Some word Saxon made up, I guess. Cybermen are robot-like aliens hell-bent on converting everyone who isn't a cyberman into one and killing anyone who refuses. Nasty creatures."

He looked confused, but there must have been something in her expression that dissuaded further questioning. "And Mickey?"

Ah. The dreaded question.

She pursed her lips, thinking carefully about how to go about telling him how she knew Mickey. She wouldn't lie, not to him, but did she want James to know about the colossal mistake that had been Jimmy Stone? She might trust him, but she'd still only known him for a few weeks, and that part of her life had been carefully compartmentalized and tucked away in her mind. "No," she said slowly, looking around the room absent-mindedly, "no, I didn't meet Mickey at Torchwood."

Rose could tell James wanted to press for more information, and she sighed. "My relationship with Mickey is a question for another time." She told him quietly, knowing that he wouldn't be perfectly satisfied with her answer, but the promise of _eventually_ hung in the air between the two of them.

They were silent for several moments before James spoke up. "So, now what?" He asked, looking at her with a somewhat worried expression that had her wondering. She'd expected disbelief at the very least, probably anger at having been lied to, perhaps disgust with them for the past few days, which had been spent killing alien after alien, but she certainly hadn't expected worry. What had Jack said to him?

Apparently, her confusion was evident on her face, because James spoke again. "Jack mentioned…something called retcon? I guess it makes you forget things?"

Rose snorted rudely. "You think we told you all this just to make you forget?" She questioned, looking at him directly for the first time since entering the office and raising her eyebrows.

"You're not going to?"

She sighed. "James…I love my job. I take a lot of pride in my job. Most of the rules we have at Torchwood, I had a hand in passing. Secrecy in particular is very important – usually only spouses can be informed about what Torchwood really is, and even then, they're not told everything. But Martha, Jack, and Mickey all trust you, and I trust them, so if you tell me that you're not going to go around telling everyone that we're alien-hunters," she smiled ruefully, "then you're safe."

James nodded slowly, as though processing this information. It was several minutes before he spoke. "You fight aliens. That's your job. Fighting aliens."

Rose's face contorted as she fought a smile. "That's…one way of seeing it."

James let out a heavy breath. "That's so cool," he chuckled, running his fingers through his hair and smiling at Rose, who felt relief and hope bubble in her core.

"Yeah?" She asked, her grin widening slowly.

"Yeah," James laughed.

They simply smiled at each other in silence for a few moments, and it was James who moved first, standing from his seat and slowly moving until he was crouched over Rose, whose eyes never strayed from his face. He leaned in, somewhat hesitantly, and gently pressed his lips to hers. Rose's heart leapt into her throat and her stomach dropped as she returned his kiss, her fingers weaving gently into his hair.

He pulled away and rested his forehead against hers so that he could meet her eyes, her warm hazel gaze shinning with warmth and affection and her cheeks slightly flushed pink from their kiss. "I'm so glad you're alright," he whispered, lightly stroking her cheek with his thumb. "I was so worried."

She covered his hand with hers. "I'm so glad you're here, James."

 **Not very exciting, I know, but these two needed get their business together!**


	13. Chapter 13 - Epilogue

**Still alive!  
Sorry, loves, I've had a rough go at it lately, not to mention this story _still_ continued to refuse to be written. **

**And, I'm afraid, this is the end for our friends Rose and James.**

 **So our final chapter/epilogue.**

"Hey, stranger."

James looked up from the espresso machine, which he was cleaning with painstaking care, to meet the shining whiskey eyes of his girl, Rose. She was smiling up at him with amused twinkle in her eyes and a smirk on her lips. She was dressed casually in the leather jacket he loved, jeans, and worn plimsolls, and the scars on her neck hidden by her favourite light pink scarf.

James grinned when he saw her, throwing the rag he'd been using over his shoulder to saunter around the counter, a cocky grin on his lips. She leaned her hips against the edge of the counter and crossed her arms over her chest, raising a single eyebrow. He dropped the cocky attitude once he was at her side and grinned fully down at her, feeling a familiar warmth in his stomach when she returned his wide smile. He could still see too many scars on her flushed face, though they were finally beginning to fade, so he focused instead on her warm gaze and pink lips. He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and her cheeks tinged the colour of her namesake, a reaction he loved that had never gone away, no matter how many times his lips touched her skin.

"I just need five minutes, sweetheart," James told her, unable to keep the smile off his face now that she was in the shop.

"No problem," Rose said with a smile, moving to sit at one of the tables not too far from the counter so that she could watch him work through the last few minutes of his shift.

The weeks following the 'invasion' in Cardiff had been almost frighteningly normal, so much so that he could practically feel Rose humming in anticipation when they went to bed, unused to such extended periods of calm. He'd known she was nervous – Rose staunchly believed that the longer things went right, the more explosive and dangerous the next _wrong_ would be. And she'd certainly been on the mark.

An explosion at Torchwood One almost two months ago had injured sixteen Torchwood staff members and killed another three, and James knew that Rose had grieved their loss as one would the loss of a friend. They might not have been part of her team, Rose had explained to him tearfully, but they'd been Torchwood, and that made them part of an exclusive family, and she'd known them relatively well. The damage to the building was localized to the lab, thankfully, and few people spent excessive amounts of time there. Though it had been ruled an accident (someone not being careful enough with an alien chemical, James suspected, but Rose remained adamantly tight-lipped on the matter) the results had been devastating. On top of the lives lost and people injured, several artefacts and chemicals had been irreparably damaged.

Rose and James' ensuing argument had been spectacular as well – he'd demanded she spend less time at Torchwood – in the few months he'd known her, she'd been in three life-threatening situations, and he wasn't comfortable with the idea of her being in danger.

She, her temper getting the better of her, had snapped that she wasn't going to give up her promising career as a Torchwood agent for a man, that she'd been in plenty of life-and-death situations before, that she was trained exactly for that.

The shouting match had been loud and long, and James's neighbors had pounded on the walls and the door, demanding the two quiet down before someone called the police. Rose had picked up her jacket and stormed off, slamming the door loudly behind her.

Jack, who happened across Rose first, had stomped into the flat with anger burning in his eyes, and had stared down James with a stoic expression. He'd informed James that he was lucky Mickey hadn't heard about the incident first, because if he had Jack wasn't sure James would be a 'pretty' as he currently was.

Rose had remained out of contact with James for almost three days before he'd stormed into Torchwood, ready to demand that she stop running, for once in her life, and fight for them. What he'd found was her hunched at her desk, looking broken and defeated, and he'd felt guilt rest heavy in his stomach. They'd made up, Rose promising to communicate more, to let him know if she thought something was going wrong, and to just keep him in the loop, and him promising to speak to her about his concerns and to back off. He wasn't stupid – he knew she was well trained and almost frighteningly efficient – but that wouldn't stop him from worrying anyway.

(James did end up with a black eye from Mickey, but he decided to let that one slide after Rose had shouted at her best friend. He probably deserved it anyway).

Martha, in her typical peace-keeping way, had shaken her head at all of them, telling Rose and James to get over themselves and work out their issues before calling all of them fumbling children and stalking off, muttering under her breath.

The relationship between Rose and James had been shaken but held strong, both of them determined not to lose each other.

"What do you want to do for lunch?" James asked as he finished wiping down the espresso machine, feeling Rose's eyes on him as he did so.

"There's this great chippy down the road…" he could hear the smile in her voice, and it made him smile as well. It didn't matter how many times he told her that _too many fried foods were going to kill them, Rose Tyler,_ because she'd simply snort back some retort about the amount of sweets he ate and continue to munch away at her chips.

"Chips sounds lovely," he said with a chuckle.

The door _dinged_ and James looked up, a grin on his face to greet the customer. Rose saw the smile drop somewhat and surprise on his features, so she twisted in her chair to see a familiar perfectly-coifed blonde head paired with an haute-couture jacket and purse. She bit back a scoff when Reinette smiled flirtatiously at James.

"Reinette," he greeted impassively, doing what Rose thought was an impressive job at keeping his face blank save for a polite smile. "What can I get for you?"

"Mon chère," Reinette purred. Rose cleared her throat loudly and Reinette turned, seeming surprised to see her there. Rose smiled innocently at her from her seat, but the claim was clear, and she saw Reinette's lips tighten in frustration. She ordered her drink from James, who took her money and quickly went about making it. His hands worked the espresso machine quickly and adeptly, and he winked at Rose over the top of it as he quickly threw Reinette's drink together. Rose grinned in response.

Donna slipped out of the staff room then, tying her apron around her waist. The scowl she'd been wearing disappeared, replaced by a professional grin. She stopped short when she saw Reinette at the counter, and raised her eyebrows at Rose, who looked on in amusement. Rose shrugged, indifference on her face, and Donna bit her lips, trying not to laugh. Rose's nearly daily appearance at the shop had made her and Donna experts and non-verbal communication, which often made James, who was awful at it, whine about being left out of their secret discussions. Donna and Rose would simply exchange secret smiles and James would continue to whine when he and Rose left. Rose, naturally, completely ignored his complaints.

* * *

James tried to keep the nervousness from his face when he came out of the staff room, his apron replaced by his long trench coat. The weather was steadily warming, and it was borderline too warm for the coat, but he decidedly wore it anyway, dreading the days where it would be too warm even for his preferred suits (Rose ignored his whining about that, too).

The spare keys in his pocket felt entirely too heavy for what they were – just two small pieces of metal – but he'd never given a flat key to his girlfriend before. Really, it wouldn't make _that_ much of a difference; if Rose came by when neither he nor Jack were home, she often just used their hidden emergency key to let herself in, but he wanted her to have one on her at all times, one that was _hers_. It seemed like a ridiculously silly step, but he could feel his palms get sweaty as he thought of how to give it to her.

Oh, god, what if she didn't want it?

No, that was ridiculous – of course she'd want it. She'd probably laugh at him if she knew how much he was overthinking this.

"What did your chips ever do to you?"

Rose's voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up to see her sitting across the small booth, a basket of vinegar-soaked chips in front of her, her eyebrows raised as she regarded him with amusement written all over her face.

"What?" He asked dumbly, looking down and realizing there was a basket of chips in front of him, too.

Her lips quirked into a smirk and she popped a chip into her mouth, sucking the excess vinegar from her thumb. "You've been glaring at your chips for about five minutes. I was wondering what they ever did to you."

He shrugged and picked up a chip, examining it dramatically in case Rose had pranked him by drenching his chips in the vinegar she favoured and he disliked intensely. She had managed to do it a couple times, always laughing at his shell-shocked reaction when it burned his tongue, and he'd learned to be careful. She smiled teasingly at his inspection, outright grinning when he decided the chip was safe to eat and carefully brought it to his lips. It was, perhaps, a bit too hot, and burned the sensitive flesh of his tongue and cheeks as he chewed, but there was no vinegar, so he went about eating his food normally.

A few minutes later, he looked up to see Rose eyeing him suspiciously. "What?" He asked, his mouth full.

She cocked an eyebrow. "How do you mean, 'what'? You spend the first five minutes looking at your chips like they'd insulted you, and you haven't spoken in," she checked her watch, "fifteen minutes? I don't think I've ever seen you be quiet this long. We both know you've got a gob. So let's have it, then."

"Have what?"

She sighed. "Whatever's making you act like this." She used a chip as a pointer. "Why are you so on edge, James?"

He dropped the chip that had been in his hand and leaned back, running the hand that wasn't covered in grease and salt through his hair. He'd hoped to find a more meaningful way to do this, but he should have known that Rose would notice immediately if something was off about him. He should have planned in advance, he berated himself. Without saying a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small silver keys, attached to a silver loop, placing them on the table and sliding them towards her.

She picked them up and examined them carefully, then looked up, frowning at him. "What's this?"

"Keys to my flat," James mumbled. He rushed to explain, "I know you know where the emergency one is, but I just thought…I wanted you to have your own, so that, I don't know, if we have to _use_ the emergency one and forget to put it back out, or…I don't know. I just wanted you to have it."

She was quiet for a moment, looking between him and the key with an unreadable expression on her face. "You want me to have a key to your flat?" She said, her cheeks tinging pink and her lips curling into a shy smile. He swallowed and nodded. Her smile widened and she stood, leaning across the table to plant a kiss on his surprised lips, leaving the lingering burn of the vinegar on his skin. When he met her gaze, she was grinning widely at him, her tongue poking out from under her canine in that smile that he so desperately loved. She leaned back in her seat and pulled out her keys from her purse, attaching his flat key to its own loop. The sight of it on her key ring made his lips pull into an exuberant smile.

Deftly, she reached into her purse again and pulled out two key, joined by the same silver ring that his had been ring, and handed them to him. He took them hesitantly, offering her a questioning smile. She grinned. "I had them made a few days ago," she informed him. "I was just waiting for the right time. That's the one for the building, and that's the one for my flat," she pointed to each one in turn.

James grinned widely and went about attaching the keys to his own set, his heart pounding heavily in his chest. When he looked back up at Rose, she was smiling just as widely, her teeth pulling at her bottom lip. Suddenly, he was very eager to use his keys to get into her building. "Are you finished?" He asked quickly.

She laughed and looked down at her half-full basket of chips. "No," she chuckled.

He grinned. He could wait.

 **A _massive_ thanks to everyone who stuck by me for the entire story - your guys' support has meant the world to me. I really hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Kindly stay tuned for an outtake, which should be posted relatively soon as a new chapter on this story. **

**Remember to leave a review or a comment and let me know what you thought!**


	14. Outtake: Bumblebees and Coffee

**Surprise surprise! A little outtake from before James and Rose meet.**

 **Did you ever wonder how Rose ended up owing Martha a big favour?**

Martha was woken by the buzzing of her mobile on the nightstand.

She opened her eyes and wrinkled her nose in distaste when she saw the blurry _6:02_ red numbers on her alarm clock.

Who was calling her at six in the morning?

It was November first, the day after Halloween, and she was feeling the amount of alcohol she'd had last night. They'd spent the evening after trick-or-treating at the pub not far from their flat, and Martha was realizing now that she might have had one or two too many drinks.

She didn't have to be awake until eight this morning. Whoever it was could wait. She covered her head with her pillow and pressed it against her ear to block out the annoying buzzing, envious of Mickey, who was sleeping like the dead next to her, snoring lightly. She let out a breath of relief when the buzzing stopped and tried to relax again, getting comfortable against her pillow and resettling into her mattress, burrowing into the blankets.

She let out a whine when the phone began to buzz again. Apparently whoever was calling was insistent. She lifted her head and picked up the phone, frowning at the small screen. She recognized the photo that lit up her phone, though she wasn't the usual recipient of early morning wake ups from this particular caller.

She brushed her hair back from her face and hit _accept_.

"Rose, what the hell?" She slurred, frustration in her tone.

"Martha, thank God, you have to help me!" Rose whispered desperately into the phone.

Martha sighed. "What did you do?"

Rose hesitated before the words tumbled from her mouth in an undignified heap. "I hooked up with this bloke and all I have is this stupid bumblebee costume and it got torn last night and I am _not_ walking home in a torn bumblebee costume."

Martha blinked a few times, processing what she'd just heard. She held back as long as she could, but eventually her shoulders began to shake with laughter and she couldn't hold in the loud guffaws that tore from her throat. She laughed until tears formed in her eyes, and a disgruntled Mickey turned to look at her curiously through bleary eyes from his side of the bed.

"Stop laughing at me! Help me!" Rose begged. "There's no way I can be here when he wakes up!"

Martha continued to laugh as she hit the speakerphone button and held the mobile away from her ear. "So what exactly do you want me to do?" She asked through her laughs.

"Pick me up!" Rose whisper-shouted. "And maybe bring some spare clothes?"

Mickey's eyes widened as he listened to Rose's desperate pleas, then he shook his head and rolled back into bed. He was used to Rose's strange antics by now.

"You want me to pick you up at six in the morning at some bloke's flat, and to bring you clothes." Martha confirmed, still shaking with restrained laughter.

"Please!"

"You realize that you are _so_ going to owe me." Martha said as she sat up, tossing off her blankets and shivering at the sudden frigid air.

"Fine, fine!" Rose whispered. "Seriously, just come get me!"

Martha chuckled and put the down as she quickly dressed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and an old jumper that would protect her from the early morning chill. "How exactly did the costume get torn?" She asked as she grabbed another pair of sweatpants and another jumper for Rose, who had, apparently, not thought her one-night stand through.

"How do you think?" Rose snapped, still whispering in what Martha guessed was a desperate attempt at not waking her one-night stand.

"Where are you now?" Martha asked, unable to keep the grin from her face as she slipped on her trainers and grabbed her purse, taking care to lock the door behind her.

"Hiding in his bathroom in my knickers."

Martha laughed loudly again, earning several grumbles from Rose on the other end of the line. "And how exactly are you planning on changing?" She asked as she slipped into her car, tossing the spare clothes into the passenger seat. "I'm not coming up to your shag friend's flat."

Rose grumbled again. "I'll change in your car, for God's sake."

Martha grinned. "So I'm going to see the torn bumblebee costume?"

"Yes, Martha, you're going to see how much of a fool I made of myself," Rose snapped, still whispering. "Hurry up!"

"I'm leaving, I'm leaving," Martha laughed. "What's this bloke's address?"

Rose rattled off the address, which thankfully wasn't a terribly long drive. "Expect me in ten minutes," Martha said as she switched on her Bluetooth.

Thankfully, there was no traffic on the road so early the morning after Halloween, so Martha was able to make it to Rose's location with two minutes to spare.

"I'm here," She said as she pulled into the car park. "Nice place."

"I'm coming down!" Rose whispered, and Martha heard doors opening and closing quietly on Rose's end.

A few moments later, the familiar blonde head poked out from behind the door's main entrance, and Rose spotted Martha's car immediately. With a visible deep breath, she dashed from the building to the vehicle. Martha was unable to hold back another laughter as she took in her friend's skimpy (and _torn_ ) bumblebee costume, paired with four-inch high heels. She jumped into the back seat.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, _thank you_ ," Rose gasped as she settled into the car, ignoring Martha's loud laughter. She reached forward and grabbed the clothes that waited for her on the passenger side seat and quickly changed in the back seat of the car. Once she was suitably clothed, she awkwardly climbed between the two front seats and settled herself into the passenger seat. Martha handed her a hair elastic with a knowing grin, seeing that residual hairspray and Rose's typical restless sleep had resulted in a rat's nest of blonde locks. Rose groaned in thanks and did her best to smooth her hair into a ponytail, but eventually gave up and settled on a disastrously messy bun.

The rode in silence for a few minutes, Martha trying to control her laughter, until Rose shot her a pleading look. "You're never going to let me live this down."

Martha slowly shook her head. "Never. Never, ever, ever…" Rose groaned and threw her head back against the headrest, ignoring another burst of laughter from Martha, who was feeling decidedly awake and giddy at the expense of her friend, who looked flustered, irritated, and embarrassed. "I can't believe you did that!" Martha howled.

Rose threw up her hands in exasperation.

Martha took a detour on her drive back to her flat, swinging by TARDIS coffee shop. The shop wouldn't be open yet, but James would be inside, getting the shop ready for opening.

"Where are we going?" Rose asked, alarmed, obviously uncomfortable with her current appearance.

"I thought you might want a coffee," Martha grinned.

"I'm not leaving the car!" Rose squeaked indignantly.

Martha laughed. "Fine," she chuckled, throwing the car into park and pulling out her keys. "I'll only be a minute." She jogged up to the door and unlocked the door to the shop, slipping in quickly. She heard a loud _clunk_ and suddenly James appeared from under the counter, shock on his face and rubbing the top of his forehead. "Sorry," Martha, laughed.

"You sound sorry," James grumbled, standing fully and grinning guilelessly at Martha. "What are you doing here so early?"

"Just grabbing a couple coffees," She grinned. "I imagined you've already got a pot going for yourself?" Martha raised her eyebrows knowingly, well aware that James always made a pot of coffee for himself when he had an early shift. He grinned in response and nodded his head to the mostly-full pot of coffee that was still on the burner. Martha grabbed two take-away cups and filled them with coffee, putting in the correct amount of sugar and cream for herself and for Rose.

"At six in the morning?" James quirked an eyebrow. Martha said nothing, holding back more laughter. James seemed to sense that she wouldn't answer and shrugged, returning to his work.

Just as Martha was leaving, she stopped, turning to look at James again. "How are things with Reinette, anyway? No big problems?" She asked, knowing that the woman had been persistently trying to seduce her employee.

He grimaced. "It's fine. I can handle it."

Martha shrugged, frowning at him. "Alright," she said easily. "Let me know if it gets too bad," she instructed him seriously.

"You got it," James smirked. "See you later, Martha."

"Have a good morning, James," Martha called as she left the shop, coffees in hand. She looked back to make sure that James would lock the door behind her, and she grinned at him in thanks when he did so. When she slipped back into her car to see a grumpy and tired looking Rose, and handed her the coffee she'd made the way her friend liked. Rose accepted the drink with a grateful mutter and took a long sip, making Martha smile as she settled back into her car.

"Am I dropping you off at your mum and dad's?" Martha asked, glancing over at Rose and receiving a pleading look from her dishevelled friend, making her laugh. "You can have a kip on our couch."

* * *

"Hello?"

"Hey, Rose," Martha greeted cheerfully, watching James interact awkwardly with his aggressive female suitor. "Are you busy?" Reinette had managed to grab hold of James's tie and was not letting him out of her grasp, apparently feeling more persistent than usual.

"Not particularly. Why?" Martha knew that was a lie – Rose was always busy – but she always made time for her friends.

"I'm calling in the favour you owe me."

 **There it is! Goodbye for now, my loves! Remember to let me know what you thought!**


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